The Day You Lost Me
by Babydollunderthesky
Summary: "It feels like I don't know you, Hermione. It's been years. And I'm sorry." - Harry. HHr.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Dear Me! I just had to get this out! Basically, this is the only summary I can give you:**

_**Harry loved Ginny, and he proposed to her almost immediately after the war, despite Hermione's wishes that he didn't. It wasn't the right time, according to her, and the two had their futures ahead of them. Going against Hermione's advice caused a rift between the trio, Ron siding with Harry, ofcourse. It ended them. **_

_**Three years later, Harry and Ginny are going through a hard time in their marriage. It's also been three years since Ron and Harry last saw Hermione. And suddenly things are different. Will Harry admit that Hermione was right? And is he...is he falling in love with her?**_

**Basically, in my own words, Ginny and Ron remain likeable in this story. I'm sorry, but sometimes I get fed up with those stories where Ron and Ginny are so AU you've just GOT to hate them. I keep them likeable here, and related all that has happened to the fact that life is just like that. One minute you're so deeply in love with someone, the next it feels like a mistake. No, I don't like Ginny/Harry, and I don't like Hermione/Ron. I'm making Ron understand the fact that he and Hermione can't be together. He doesn't need to be hated for the relationship to just simply not work out. **

**This will be HARRY/HERMIONE eventually. I. Promise. **

**It just needed the intro. SO...Here we go. **

__ The Day You Lost Me __

_CHAPTER 1_

_"Finding Normal"_

So much blood.

So much loss.

Hermione found herself tugging at her sweater. She could've sworn that she'd stretched it two sizes bigger in the last year. It was just so bloody…_difficult_. But it was over, and it was a fresh new start. She had the entire Summer to locate her parents, and bring them back to reality, and at the start of September, she – along with almost all students of Hogwarts, would return to repeat the year. Except that for her it wouldn't be repeating; she'd missed out on it completely the first time.

Trudging across the lawn of the Burrow, she found Harry standing, staring out at the vast fields. It was early, but many of the Weasleys were already awake. They didn't seem so alive though; they were still adjusting to the aftermath of the war. Having lost so many beloveds, having lost Fred. Hermione herself felt like a mist just floating between this family as it grieved. It made her feel uncomfortable, like she was trespassing. She knew she was more than welcome, and Harry more than her, but it still didn't feel right to impose.

"Harry?" she called out to him softly.

He heard her, and turned his head a fraction of an inch. When he turned back to gaze at the horizon, she knew she was welcomed to stand next to him. Taking her place at his right, like she had the entire past year, she relaxed. She looked up at him from the corner of her eye, but he was gazing at everything that lay ahead of them, deep in thought, a hardened soul.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked her, as he did every day, waiting for the day when she'd say she was all right. But, just like every other day, she didn't speaking, choosing instead to stand silently by his side.

"How're you?" she asked, echoing herself for the past two weeks.

"I've been thinking," he said, going against their usual routine. There was a change in his voice. He sounded worried, and his voice had gone off-hand. She looked up at him properly, and he looked down. "About…everything."

"That's a first," she said feebly, attempting a smile that only went halfway.

"Hermione," he said, suddenly serious. "I was thinking of asking Ginny to marry me."

Hermione froze. Harry Potter talking about marriage? He wanted to marry Ginny?

"Well, there's nothing wrong with that, Harry. After a few years, once both of you are done with your studies, there's no reason for you not to marry," she said, her mouth adjusting to the jabber she'd suddenly released. "I mean, it's not exactly unexpected. People…people…er…"

Harry just smiled at her. "_Now_, Hermione. I don't want to marry Ginny after a few years. I want to marry her now."

Hermione caught herself in time and managed to stop her jaw from dropping. This was too much. "Harry, with all due respect, I don't think _now's _the appropriate time. We've just come out of a war, for one thing –"

"And that's the reason I want to propose. Didn't you hear yourself, Hermione? _We've just come out of a war! _I've realized that there's no time to take chances, anymore. We're given one life, just one, and at some point it'll be taken away from us. I want to live, for Merlin's sake –"

"Harry, you want to live! Not get married! Not at seventeen! You're being – being –"

"Stupid?" he threw at her scornfully. "It's time we tried being stupid, Hermione. I love Ginny. And ever since the end of the war all I've thought about is life with her. A life lived in peace. I can't wait for that anymore."

"You have the _rest _of your life ahead of you, Harry! Both of you are still in school, and it'd be nice for both of you to finish before getting married."

"Who's to say that we can't do both? There's no rule in Hogwarts about being married, is there?"

"That's not the point –"

"Then what is?"

"I'm just – I'm just telling you to consider this for a moment, Harry. You can marry Ginny after a few years, when both of you are done with school, and when both of you have jobs! It's the logical thing to do! How else would you support each other? And what about your dreams of becoming an auror? Marriage is a commitment, Harry. You can't just time in and time out of it!" She paused, gasping for air. "Will you – will you atleast consider what I've said before you go and throw yourself into a situation like this? Because if you do, there's no turning back."

Harry grunted at her, staring off at the distance again, and it took everything in Hermione not to punch him there and then. He said nothing to her and, giving up, she turned and walked away.

"I don't want to turn back, Hermione. Too many things behind me I'd rather not see again," he said abruptly.

Pretending she hadn't heard him, Hermione made her way back to the Burrow. Harry would come to his senses. Surely, he had to. Not even a month ago the entire wizarding world had laid their faith in him, and he'd done exactly as they'd hoped. The media would have a field day if he announced an engagement to Ginny. It made her come to her own conclusion, however, as she reached the door to the kitchen.

_War really did change people._

O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O

"Ginny," Harry said that night at dinner. Everyone had been silently eating when he'd said that. They'd just begun and he couldn't put off his task any longer. Ginny jumped at him calling her name, and looked up from her meal with a questioning expression.

Hermione managed to keep herself looking down, whereas everyone else had turned their attention to Harry and his love.

"Yes, Harry?" Ginny said unsurely.

Harry debated whether to continue, given the situation. Stumbling, he got out of his chair, and made his way around, so that he was right behind Ginny. She scooted back, so she could look at him properly, and then made a sound between a gasp and a shriek as Harry knelt down on one knee.

Molly looked ready to faint. She was gripping Mr. Weasley's arm so tightly, Hermione was surprised no blood had come to show yet. Ron's jaw had dropped, along with every other Weasley brother, while Fleur simply smirked.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Ginny hissed, her cheeks burning red to match his. Harry fumbled with a box, pulling it out of the pocket of his jeans, and held it out to her, his hands shaking terribly. At this point, Hermione looked up, daring him mentally to do it, and ignore everything she'd said to him this morning.

"Ginny, I love you," Harry said, ignoring Ginny's previous question. He opened the box to reveal an engagement ring with a very generous looking diamond. "And…and…well, that's basically it – I love you. So, Ginerva – will you marry me?"

Ginny gasped so audibly Hermione was scared she'd sucked in all the air she could and would soon faint. But then she was gripping Harry at the shoulders, trembling just like him, and kissed him straight on the lips infront of everyone. A kiss that, needless to say, spoke of tremendous passion and devotion. Once they parted, Ginny said, blushing furiously and grinning all the same, "Yes." She pulled Harry up into a bone-crushing hug. "Yes." She kissed him, and this time he responded with just as much enthusiasm.

"Yes?" he asked sheepishly.

"A million times: Yes."

Harry was grinning as well, and Hermione had to admit that the two looked positively smitten. Something straight out of one of Shakespeare's dopey love stories. She had nothing against Ginny, no, but she thought that atleast somebody should make a point of saying that the two get married afterwards, and not as fast as their brooms could get them to a Church.

"Merlin!" Mrs. Weasley half-shrieked and half-sobbed. She was crying now, trying to wipe away fresh tears in vain. She knocked her chair back, and hugged Harry, crying deeply into his shoulder. "Harry – oh, Harry you'll be my godson! You'll officially be a part of our family!" she sobbed happily.

Mr. Weasley smiled at Harry, giving his silent blessing, and more hugs were passed around.

"Come here, mate!" Ron said when he'd reached Harry, giving Harry a big hug, welcoming his best friend as a brother-in-law.

And Hermione, why, she hadn't moved an inch. She felt oddly torn. On one hand, she was happy – more than happy – for Harry and Ginny. On the other hand, it felt as though Harry had slapped her face, and Hermione did not like that feeling at all. Excusing herself from the table with some claim of feeling sick, she hugged Ginny weakly, barely touched Harry, and made her way upstairs.

Once in her room, she dropped onto the bed, shutting her eyes as the whole year played in her head. One war and they'd all been stripped of everything that made them children. They were soldiers, and more importantly, survivors. Hermione just wished it went back to the way things were before.

She thought of her parents, as all thoughts nowadays somehow drew back to. They were in Australia, living a happy life, knowing nothing about their daughter. They were living in what Hermione understood was termed as "the bliss of ignorance". They did not worry themselves to sleep wondering if she was alive, or hurt, or missing them. They only had each other, and whatever life Hermione believed they'd managed to scrape up between the two of them.

The obvious resolution was for her to find them, and wake them up from this ignorance. A big part of her just yelled to have her parents back, to be able to throw herself into her mother's arms and cry about everything that had happened to her throughout the year. A part of her wanted her father to speak to her, and tell her that everything would be all right, and make those promises of always being there if she needed him. She wanted to spend the Summer with them, as well as the following Christmas. She wanted to hear their voices. Feel their hugs. She wanted them to be there for her, like they had, since as they constantly told her: She was their world.

And as she'd constantly tell them: They were hers.

That thought brought a pinch of pain. She could recall them laughing at that response. When she was a child, up until before she had to leave for Hogwarts, they'd hug her, and give her a kiss on the head, and assure her that it'd be that way till the very end.

But when she began studying at Hogwarts, and when she'd met Harry and Ron, that changed. Her parents would chuckle at her claim that they were her world, and tell her that she had a new world now, and possibly a new life. And that one day she'd grow up, and she'd be a different person. She'd be a powerful witch, instead of a lawyer, or a doctor…or a dentist, as they had hoped and planned. But despite all the changes, they swore that she'd always be their little girl.

Now, everything was different. She felt like such an…orphan.

She could not bring herself to think about all their letters, with their words, with their love, telling her how much they missed her. She couldn't bear to imagine the pain they must've felt when she was gone for more than half the year, and then she'd either come back for Christmas and be too busy thinking of Harry's latest problem, or she wouldn't come back for Christmas at all. Then she'd be back during the Summer for the shortest amount of time, before running off to meet Harry and Ron. It riddled her with guilt.

She felt so selfish.

And she hated it.

Tears had sprung from her eyes without her noticing, and she found herself crying softly. She. Hated. Everything. She didn't want to be a part of this world anymore. There was no calling for her in the wizarding world. She was sure that prejudice against muggleborns would lessen now that most of the prejudice people were either dead or imprisoned, but it didn't matter to her. It was something she knew no pureblood nor half-blood would ever understand: as a muggleborn, she was a human. A human who'd started out with life in a completely different matter. A life she found herself wishing for yet again.

But there wasn't a calling for her in the muggle world either. Her parents were goodness knows where now. She'd dropped them off in Australia, but she didn't dictate where they could and could not go. They could be in China at the moment, for all she knew.

She also knew that it was possible to track them down. It would take time, maybe even years, but it was possible. However, a small part of her reacted to that fact. Was it worth it, then, to bring them back? And tell them every stupid thing she'd done? All the dangers she'd put herself it? Was it worth to bring them back to a daughter who'd seen and done too much to ever be their little girl again? Or would it be better, for all of them, if her parents just stayed the way they were, happy and content with their life and without a Hermione Granger?

"Hermione."

It was Ron. Hermione hid her face in her pillow. Oh, Ron. Was there anyone in the world she hadn't hurt? Right after the war she'd cleared things up with him. Yes, she liked the kiss they shared during the final battle, but no, she didn't like him. Not that way. It was adrenaline, she supposed. Ofcourse, there'd always been that part of her, especially during their sixth year, that wanted to try and kiss Ron. There was a part of her that had that silly crush on him. But now things had changed. She wasn't looking for a relationship. And after the war she had counted off the people she never wanted to part from her life, and in her eyes, starting a relationship with Ron wasn't a way to stop herself from losing him. If they fought, if they had a spat, could they ever look each other in the eye again?

But, being Ron, he played his bit well. He tried to be understanding, but she knew he was hurt. And, like a best friend, he pulled himself through, atleast every time they were around each other.

Hermione mumbled something he couldn't understand. He put a hand on her back, trying to comfort her. She was crying and hiding her face in her pillow wasn't going to hide that from him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Hermione pulled her face away from the pillow, looking down, her hair shielding her face from him. She felt terrible. She probably looked terrible as well.

"Ron," she called out to him. "Tell me something. Is it selfish of me to not want to find my parents?"

"You…don't want to bring them back?" he asked, generally surprised. He worried that he wasn't getting it at the moment. Hermione was so hard to understand sometimes. Only Harry could decipher what she usually meant, and as Ron recalled, even Harry had been wrong almost half the time.

"I don't want to bring them back to this!" Hermione squealed, cursing her stupid voice at that moment. She beat the pillow with her fist. "I don't want to bring them back when they're so happy right now."

"Why wouldn't they be happy here?"

Hermione sniffled. "What've they got waiting for them here?"

"You."

"It's not enough to bring them from the happy life to a life filled with trouble and pain."

"Hermione," Ron said sternly. "I don't say this often – I'll admit I was born tactless, but you will always be enough and you will always be worth it. Especially to your parents."

Wow, Ron, Hermione thought. He sounded so different then. Like he too had grown up and matured into a…non-prat. She laughed at the thought. It was a very different night from two nights later, when the three of them – the golden trio – were having the biggest row in their entire history together.

O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O - O

"What the bloody hell do you have to be on him so much for?" Ron snarled at her, to which Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm not 'on' him, Ronald! I'm just telling Harry he still has options!" Hermione retorted.

"You're trying to control his life!" Ron spat.

"Ron –" Harry began, ready to take his place inbetween their row.

"And you're letting him run off without any guidance whatsoever! This could be a mistake! You both should atleast wait it out!" she yelled at them.

And then Harry turned to her. He was so close, seeing as how he'd been standing inbetween them, though facing Ron. He was angry.

"SHUT UP, HERMIONE!" he bellowed at her, color rising in his cheeks as he yelled.

"This is Harry's choice, and he's made it!" Ron added.

Harry glared at him, before turning back to Hermione, ready to defend himself.

"Accept the fact that I have a different way of attaining happiness from you. You may find it in graduating, or studying, or working. I love Ginny, Hermione. I love the thought of marrying her, whether or not you think it's 'the right time'. Either be happy for me, or just get out of my life," Harry told Hermione flatly.

"I'm sorry I'm not as happy as all of you are, Harry. I'm sorry I'm the only person here who doesn't seem to be feeding off this sham in order to hide my sadness. Or my pain," she said, darting her comment at Ron. "I'm thinking about you and Ginny and –"

"That's all you do, Hermione!" Ron roared at her from behind Harry. "All you do is think, and think, and think! And what good has it done to you? There are some things in life you can't handle by using your brain, or logic, because in the end you'll be the stupidest of them all!"

"Just because I actually consider the future, Ronald, does not mean I've got no emotions! I'm just prepared so that if it does end poorly, I won't look like the sorry loser who let herself get into it too much –"

"Just – just – both of you shut it already!" Harry yelled. He turned to Hermione, and looked her in the eye, not breaking contact. "Just tell me, Hermione," he said softly, silence coming over the room. "Just tell me one thing. When Ginny and I get married…on the wedding day…will you be there, or not?"

Hermione looked down. She would not say yes. She couldn't.

"You're willing to lose me and Harry over your stubbornness?" Ron asked as well, almost pleading her to say yes and accept Harry's decision. No more damages, no more loss.

"You can't do anything about this, Hermione," Harry added. "What's done is done. I'm marrying Ginny, even if this means goodbye."

"Harry," Ron began, redirecting his approach, "Seven years…"

"Hermione, I care about you deeply. But if you can be stubborn, so can I. I don't want to lose anyone, you know, not after getting this far."

She looked up at him, no tears, no smile. She wasn't going to break. Something was different amongst the three of them. Something was different between her and Harry.

"Harry," she said heavily, stepping backwards, her hands behind her back. "Good luck with everything." She sidestepped him, and made for the door, before exchanging a glance with Ron, and adding, "Ronald."

Then she was gone. Apparated.

Hermione Granger was gone.

**A/N: Review? Please? Review? Yeah? Yeah? Yeah? Hi!**


	2. Chapter 2

__ The Day You Lost Me __

_CHAPTER 2_

_"A Little Too Late"_

Harry threw his gloves into his locker. He slammed the door shut, and leaned his head against it, trying to balance himself out. He should not have had that bottle of firewhiskey. What was he thinking? He banged his head against the locker door, trying to knock some sense into it. He should not have had that second bottle of firewhiskey. Bang. Bang. Bang. He should not have had that third bottle of firewhiskey.

"Harry?" Ron called out, entering the locker room. He found Harry leaning, completely hammered, against his locker, looking ready to pass out. "Harry?" Ron said more urgently, catching his friend as he fell backwards in the attempt to check who'd come in. "What – the – bloody – hell – are you doing?" Ron said, falling slightly under Harry's weight. He shifted, half-walking, half-carrying Harry out of the room. "Are – are – you and Ginny talking yet?"

Harry made an incoherent noise, which Ron took as a "No."

"All right," Ron said, "Hold on tight then." With one fluid motion, Ron spun – having thankfully learned how to safely apparate - and they landed in his apartment, Harry tumbling onto the floor.

Harry grunted slightly, forcing his eyes open, and trying to reign over his senses.

"Ron?"

"Tell me," his friend said, heaving him onto his feet and towards the living room. Ron pulled out his wand and gave it a flick, causing blankets and a pillow to appear on the couch (a handy trick learned from his mother). He dropped his friend on it unceremoniously, causing Harry to jerk awake again. "Tell me why is it that the one day a year when I find you completely smashed happens to be Hermione's birthday?"

"It's…Hermione's birthday?" Harry mumbled, setting his head against the pillow with a thud.

"I'm not stupid, Harry," Ron said, sitting on the armchair nearby. "I know you miss her." He sighed. "It's been four years, after all."

"I'm…the one…who told her to go, remember?"

"I remember," Ron said softly.

"Damn it, Ron!" Harry cried out, very much unlike himself, a side Ron was used to seeing on this particular day. "I miss her." Pause. "And I'm sorry. I'm so…bloody…sorry."

"Keep telling yourself that, mate," Ron said sadly. "You're not going to admit any of this tomorrow, Harry, you know that, right?" Ron relaxed a little, and decided that, given the situation, he should atleast get something out of Harry's drunkunness. "Harry, in this drunken, sorry state you're in, I have to ask you, mate – if you could have a do-over, would you change the way things ended?"

"I wouldn't have told her to go," Harry said, sounding oddly sober. Ron looked at him. He still seemed smashed. "I wouldn't have…I wouldn't have let her go…" Harry opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. "I…I wouldn't…bloody…this…this won't change anything, Ron."

"What do you mean?"

"This…this won't bring her back," Harry sighed, "Do you…do you wonder where she is right now?"

"Knowing Hermione, she'd probably be in some tombs or whatever…"

"Studying runes…" Harry said, smiling weakly. He looked oddly serious, but there was a glint in his eye that told Ron the Boy-Who-Lived was fighting to stay awake.

"Just goes to show we both don't know her, huh?" Ron said, chuckling slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"Hermione, mate. Sometimes I think we don't know her. Like we never figured her out."

"I thought we had."

"And what conclusion did you come to, Harry?"

"Hermione…Hermione wants to live. But she can't because her own subconscious won't let her relax." Harry paused, as though all this thinking was giving him a headache. He continued, "She's always debating on the inside, weighing her decisions. And in the end she always picks logic, even though she knows deep down inside that sometimes logic can't make her happy." Harry groaned slightly as the headache took hold of his mental abilities.

"Oh," Ron deadpanned. Harry had done his homework. "That's what I was about to say."

Harry snorted. "Really?"

"Yeah," Ron said, keeping his end up. "We never gave her that much credit, now did we?"

"Not at all."

"So…so would this be considered our punishment?"

"No, no, no," Harry said, looking strained as he argued. "Our punishment would be losing her, Ron. We haven't truly lost her – she walked away. We just haven't tried to find her. If we wanted to, we could probably just Accio her here." He had a fierce determination in him, which, Ron noted, made him look like he was trying to make himself believe his own words.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "And you don't want to look for her, then?"

"I do. Some days I just want to drop everything and apparate and start looking for clues and all that stupid shit."

Ron snorted. "Then why haven't you, Holmes?" Harry inwardly cursed letting Ron read books on the muggle detective.

"Life. It gets in the way, Watson. Tell me this, I know you're just as willing as I am to drop everything and search for Hermione, but are you willing to just leave Luna behind?" Harry tried to relax. He'd bought himself some time with that question. Ron wasn't going to answer it, atleast not directly.

Ron reddened slightly at the mention of Luna's name. No, he wouldn't, and that was the truth.

"It can't be done," Ron said after a minute of thought.

"It can't. And until life itself hits the pause button for the both of us, we can't do anything about it."

"That's where I think you're wrong, Harry. We could – we could anything for her. She's our best friend. A third of our trio."

"I know, I know. I just…I can't bring myself to, Ron. I mean…what if we don't find her? Or, worse, what if we do find her, but she wants nothing to do with us?"

"That isn't Hermione, mate. She wouldn't turn us down."

"Maybe, but I don't want to risk it." In the name of Merlin's pants, he was drunk. And he was going to take the stubborn route and get away with it.

"Come on, Harry – what happened to the wizard I used to know?"

To this, Harry smirked. "I got married, Ron. That's what happened."

And then he shut his eyes, and dozed off.

Ron looked at his best friend.

"You make more sense when you're drunk, Harry," he said, shrugging, before standing and walking out the door to join Luna for dinner.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

"Do you really want to do this?" Becky asked, handing Hermione a pair of dragon hide gloves. Hermione pulled them on.

"Yes. This is fun."

Becky rolled her eyes. Becky, another friend Hermione had met during work, was a muggleborn, which meant that she could enjoy the muggle activities both girls found enjoyable, like shopping, or going to the movies, or riding rollercoasters – in Becky's case. But she could also understand the joys of magic, though it still confused her why Hermione was taking this latest assignment so…easily.

"You're going in there, to break this rune thing that no one's dared go near, and you're being very peppy about it. Did you hit your head this morning?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, concentrating as she repacked her bag with useful things to take into the tomb. She was packing in a sneakoscope, to which Becky raised an eyebrow. Hermione shrugged at her; it had been an acquired habit since the end of the war – to always bring a sneakoscope. It was mostly Harry's idea, and it was a habit that Hermione tried her best not to associate with Harry. It was difficult, however, not to remember him. But she was happy, with or without the Boy-Who-Lived and the Weasel-King.

Becky took a different approach. "What did your friends use to say when you did things as stupid as this?"

"Friends?"

"You know who I'm talking about, Hermione. Two nights ago I got you drunk off some vodka, and you started telling me about your adventures together with Ron –"

"Weasel-King," Hermione deferred. She would not use their real names. She'd built a whole new life for herself, and it would be nice to not have to think about the past. Just like Harry had told her: _I don't want to turn back, Hermione. Too many things behind me I'd rather not see again._

Dear Merlin, had she really memorized his words? Well, yes, she told herself. Ofcourse she had. No matter the outcome of the present, the Boy-Who-Lived did mean something to her in the past, something no lie out of her mouth could deny.

"-and Harry Potter," Becky said.

"The Boy-Who-Lived," Hermione said softly.

"More like the Boy-Who-Broke-Your-Heart," Becky teased in a singsong voice. Hermione made a gestured, looking flustered. At times Becky reminded her of Luna. She had the same disarray of hair, except that it was deep red. Not Weasel-Red…like…Darker. Hermione almost snorted at her own silliness.

"Harry never broke my heart, Beck. It wasn't like he ever owned it." Hermione heaved her bag, and stared in shock. Becky had suited up as well. "You're coming with?"

"Ofcourse I'm coming with! It's your birthday and you're trying to get yourself killed!" Becky started to pack her own bag. "But if you think I'm going to lunge at the surges of evil power, forget about it. I'm just providing support. Plus if you bang your head really hard, I can get you to safety."

Hermione snorted. "Thanks, Beck," she said, meaning it.

"You're welcome," Beck said proudly, smirking. "And I'd like to add that yes, Ha – The Boy-Who-Lived – he owned your heart. You may not have outright loved him at that time, Hermione, but you gave him your heart to care for. He just kind of…dropped it."

"Whatever, Beck," Hermione said unsurely, as both girls made it for the entrance of the Tomb.

If Hermione were to think it over, not that she hadn't already, then yes, maybe at some point she gave Harry her heart to care for. It just seemed so right at that moment, especially when they were on the run and Ron had temporarily abandoned them. Harry treated her like…like something more than a sister. Curse the boy. She never believed in all that sort of rubbish. She never thought of Harry as a brother. There was something deeper. She cared about him. And he cared about her, and in Hermione's point of view that's what it was: Caring. Nothing to do with filial attachment. But apparently the Boy-Who-Lived saw it another way. And Becky was right. Harry did drop her heart. It was what made her right when she'd told Weasel-King corrct: _I'm just prepared so that if it does end poorly, I won't look like the sorry loser who let herself get into it too much__._

She should have been prepared. But, as Hermione refused to admit, she hadn't been prepared that time. She'd thought too much of the situation. And didn't give way to things otherwise illogical. Which, another thing Hermione refused to admit, made the Weasel-King right when he'd said: _All you do is think, and think, and think! And what good has it done to you? There are some things in life you can't handle by using your brain, or logic, because in the end you'll be the stupidest of them all!_

How Weasel-King was right.

Pushing the thought aside, Hermione held up her wand in unison with Becky, and both girls said firmly, "Lumos!"

The insides of the tomb were… "Wet?" Becky asked, sounding surprised.

Hermione frowned at the water they had suddenly stepped into. "Wet," she confirmed. "Come on, let's go."

They trudged forward, sending water everywhere. The water level rose as they went lower, all the way to their shins.

"So, Hermione, what're you going to do to celebrate your birthday?"

"Celebrate? Not exactly the topic of the moment, is it, Beck?"

"I prefer to think of good things in situations like this," Becky said, causing Hermione to laugh. "Will you atleast try a spell to get rid of all this water?"

Hermione stopped. Had she really not thought of that? Where was her head today? "Oh. Right." She raised her wand above her head, and cast a nonverbal spell. A gust of wind blew up at the ceiling. The water rose, following its course.

"Epic," Becky said. Hermione grinned. This was going to be easy. "Uh – Hermione!" Becky suddenly cried, pointing at the ceiling. The water, which had begun to roll itself, began to unleash itself again. It fell, hitting both girls flatly, causing them to fall. They were soaked…and…floating? "Hermione – Hermione!" Becky cried as a new current drove them deeper down. "There's more water now!"

"I know, Beck!" Hermione cried out, trying to pull herself up. Hermione tried to speak, before something pulled her down. She screamed at this, unfortunately taking in some water once her head was under.

"Hermione!" Becky bellowed. She could see the rapid water spread as Hermione was pulled down under - her friend was nowhere to be seen. "Hermione!"

Hermione saw herself being pulled down what looked like a whirlpool made just for her. She held her breath, hoping it'd be over soon. She was pulled as though it was a roller coaster – or better yet, a floo network. Then she was in a large room. There was no space at all for air. The entire thing had been submerged in water. Hermione tried to hold her breath a little longer, but it wasn't working out well. What was she going to do?

Weasel-King's voice came to her in her head: _Are you a witch or not?_

Just like first year, she thought, before pointing her wand at her head and casting another spell.

Gasping for air, she felt at her bubble, having successfully cast the Bubblehead Charm. She looked around the room. A jet of water made its way to her, and cut her across the knee. She shrieked slightly. A grindylow? She could barely see it. Were they really that fast? The books never said –

Hermione shrieked again as another another jet of water cut her across the arm. Her blood floated thinly through the water. She looked around, searching for the source of all of this. Another jet of water sprung from seemingly nowhere, trying to pull off her bubblehead. It failed, and scraped at her stomach instead. Whipping her head around, she searched for a way out. She tried to ram her head for a solution to this problem. A spell – something.

She could hear another jet of water coming towards her, and turned.

"REDUCTO!" she bellowed. The jet of water split, as though she was ripping it apart. It peeled off itself, and became six jets. They were tainted black, like ink, and started to surround her, pulling at the bubblehead, pulling at her clothes, pulling at her flesh. She screamed loudly, trying to get them off with a variety of spells. Nothing seemed to work. When she'd cast something, they'd spread to avoid the hit. How was she going to - No.

They got through. She didn't even have a moment to react. They tore off the bubble, and she was surrounded by the water again as they took hits at her face, which she tried to hide in her arms. She held her wand tightly, for they tried taking it. What the – she tried to punch them away. They had her on her back, and she could see more specs of blood mixing with the water and their black substance. She could see, foggily, the top of the chamber…and an orb. A green, shiny orb. Green…like Harry's eyes.

"Reducto…" she murmured, raising her hand and her wand. The spell cast, before her wand was tugged out of her hand effortlessly, and she felt herself taking water into her lungs, passing out in the water.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

"Ron," Luna called out. Ron and Harry turned to see her coming to them across the crowd at Diagon Alley. She had packages in her arms, which Ron took no hint of helping her with. Harry stepped on Ron's foot, guiding his friend, who suddenly understood, and took all the packages from Luna. "Thank you, Harry," Luna said in her far-away voice, to which Ron reddened and Harry grinned. She turned to Ron. "That's everything we'll need for tonight's dinner." Ron gaped at her like a fish out of water. "Oh, Ron – have you forgotten? Your parents and Harry and Ginny are coming over!" Ron sighed as the memory flooded back into his mind. "You and Ginny are coming, right, Harry?" Luna said, turning to Harry.

"Er – what did she say?" Harry asked quietly, avoiding Luna's eyes.

"Are you two still fighting?" Luna asked, frowning. "Maybe you have –"

"There's nothing in their house, Luna," Ron said, knowing she was about to go on about some peculiar creature or another.

"I said 'maybe', Ron," Luna said, grinning sheepishly. "Are you dropping me off to work, then?" she asked him.

"Er – sure. Harry's coming along though. We're heading to the Burrow after this."

"All right," Luna said, leading the way. Ron grinned after her, and Harry pulled him by the arm. They followed Luna to St. Mungo's, where she was working as a healer. "Hi, Gladys – how's your afternoon?"

Gladys, the healer at the front, looked up at Luna, ready to reply, then caught sight of Ron and Harry. Her eyes widened slightly, and she shut her mouth, which had been hanging open at the sight of them.

Ron leaned back towards Harry and said, "You'd think they'd stop with this staring thing by now."

Harry just shook his head at Ron.

Luna spoke again, "What is it?" she asked, cocking her head to one side.

Gladys, however, turned to Harry.

"Room 102."

Ron gaped at Harry, who was looking very surprised.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked Gladys. The young witch's mouth trembled slightly.

"Hermione Granger," she said in a whisper. "Hermione Granger is in Room 102."

**A/N: Ah! Atlast.**

**Redbird27: Hahaha, I know, Hermione seemed very selfish there in the last chapter. Forgive me for that. But it was intentional to make her seem like a prick so that there'd be a rift between the three of them. **

**Ryoko05: I had the general idea for this story in my head before I had a chance to read any of these comments. I agree with you about how it'd be nice to see Hermione branch off from the boys and be happy. She's definitely branching out in this story, I promise. As for a Muggle guy friend, I'm still considering it. I gave her Becky as a co-worker here, but I'm getting rid of Becky in the next chapter so I can focus more on Harry and Hermione. But I'll keep what you said in mind. **

**TO ALL THOSE WHO REVIEWED: Thanks! It prompted me into a frenzy, and that's what created this chapter here :) And it also prompted me to update so quickly. I hope I can keep up this speed in later chapters :)**

**And a special callout to my 'Customs' Muse - Thanks for giving me the 'Go' signal :)**

**REVIEW! HI! **


	3. Chapter 3

__ The Day You Lost Me __

_CHAPTER 3_

_"Maybe One Day You'll Be You Again"_

It was only natural for the three of them to make a mad dash for Room 102.

Harry led the way with Ron coming second and Luna falling to third. He was determined to reach Hermione and tell her…tell her everything. Tell her he was sorry, and that he was wrong. Tell her that he never wanted to see her leave again, and that he was a prick.

He needed to see that she was all right, and smiling. That she was happy. He'd always wondered if she was happy, or if she matched his worry, anxiety and pain. He'd always wondered if she was exactly where she wanted to be in life…since he couldn't imagine her any other way. He didn't want to believe that anything bad could ever happen to her – because she was Hermione. She was strong, brave and intelligent beyond all things. There was no way she could fall to pieces.

The lights of St. Mungo's burned his eyes as they intensified by bouncing off the white walls. Everything seemed to have been bleached and it gave him a sickly feeling. His insides were turning about, which was saying something seeing as how he hadn't stomached a meal all day. His previous hangover was an echo in his mind, threatening him with a sequel. And there was an ache where he supposed his heart, if not just his chest, was. An ache he just couldn't shake off.

His heart was beating loudly in his ears and it felt as though he were flying. He wasn't running as though he was in a dream - which, according to many books and movies of fiction told him would happen in a situation like this, and he wasn't falling over, like he'd expected himself to in his worst nightmares. He was moving forward like he was on a broom; like he was searching for something he had to find – like he was a searching for the golden snitch. He would have snorted at his own profound imagination, but there were more important things at hand.

The final corner lay just before him and he swerved around it with perfect momentum before coming to a direct halt. He was like a car that had been going over the speed limit for the past few hours and had suddenly jerked to a stop. If he had been in such a car he'd probably have flown through the window by now, with or without a seatbelt. But Harry didn't know how to drive – he'd never taken the trouble – so he wouldn't know. He could have kicked himself again for all the useless thoughts running through his head and clouding up with the one most important thing: Hermione.

The ache that had been in his chest moments ago was now climbing up his throat. He could hear two women talking, and saw the sign above the door at the other end of the hallway – Room 102, painted in black. The contrast was really beginning to get to his eyes.

And she was there.

She'd just stepped out of the room, her hair framing her face. It was curled almost to perfection, and he couldn't help but think that she looked like a porcelain doll. The prefect, perfect, grade-obsessed Hermione was all gone. That must've been what struck him. Right? Or was it the fact that she'd truly grown into such a beautiful woman that his jaw would've dropped if his mouth hadn't been sealed shut by its own dryness?

His best friend, his Hermione, who used to have bushy hair that flowed around like she'd been electrocuted, who used to look plain and simple…was just…breathtaking. The way she held herself, no longer carrying books, bags, quills…not even a beaded purse like on their last adventure; the way she'd turned into such a sophisticated lady; the way she gave off a tired smile without looking like she'd lost hours of sleep working on an essay. The way that same smile sent shivers down his back. The way her eyes…her eyes. Her eyes showed the pain. The fear. The…insecurity? He'd never seen that before in her. Maybe that was what shook him. Yeah?

Hermione was always sure. A know-it-all, but _his_ know-it-all, and now she looked like a lost little lamb that was afraid to be devoured. She'd lost the glint. The spark. The adventure, the courage. She looked so…vulnerable. The Gryffindor lion had become a glass doll.

And just as he was about to wonder what had caused such a change in the person she was, why she looked so pained as though a million thoughts were racing through her mind…like...like...like everything in the world was just so wrong, she spoke.

"Next week, same time?"

And his heart sank.

Four years he'd had her voice in his head, echoing. Just a memory forever on repeat telling him things he'd heard before. And now, he could hear her voice again…more mature, more wise. Experiences, wisdom and all that crap.

"Yes, Miss Granger. Do take care of yourself. No magic."

"No magic," Hermione said, her hopeful tone losing all bounce. She sounded so restrained. "No magic," she said, repeating it like a depressing mantra.

"Hermione." Harry was almost just as shocked as she was by how her name had come out of his mouth. How it'd been his voice, which, this time, sent the same shiver down a different spine.

She turned and he could have sworn that time itself stopped the moment their eyes met.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

"Harry…"

Oh my goodness…he'd…he'd grown up. He wasn't an awkward teenager, or an awkward hero. He looked like more than what she'd expected, and she'd had a picture of him in her mind from all the newspapers. He was a grown man. She almost smiled at the fact that the only thing in him that seemed to have not grown up was his hair…it still stuck up in the same places, and was still messy. His eyes had a fire in them, the young, naïve bright green having darkened through the years.

Her gaze dropped, however, as another figure came almost instantly into view. He had flaming red hair. He had blue eyes. And just like Harry, he too had become a grown man.

"Ron," she mouthed, her voice having died away after saying Harry's name.

A third figure came, this time with blonde hair falling to her thin waist. Her eyes looked dreamily concerned – if such a thing was possible. Then again, given who it was – Hermione would have bet all her money, the galleons, dollars and pounds, that it was.

"Luna."

She gave a last glance towards her Healer, who'd poked her head out to check on the commotion, before taking a few steps backwards and breaking into a run.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

"Hermione!" Harry called out. Every nerve in his body ordered him to run after her, but his brain seemed to have lost the connection to said nerves. A door before Room 102 swung open, and two healers came out, lifting a bed sideways. One healer rushed to the front, pushing the door across the hallway open. "Hermione!" Harry called out again, his view blocked by the bed.

"So sorry, Mister Weasley, Mister Potter and Miss Lovegood –" piped one of the healers, before Harry crouched without a second thought and made his way to the other side, not listening. He rushed after Hermione, turning around the next corner to see her enter one of the elevators.

Their eyes met once again – pain to pain. Hurt to hurt. Ache to ache. Hermione reached forward to the button inside the elevator and the doors began to slide shut. Harry broke into a run a little too late, coming to the elevator just as it closed and he saw the first tear roll down her cheek.

"Hermione!" he yelled, slamming his hand against the elevator, and abusing the button on the side, the one that would make the elevator come up again.

To no avail, and with his blood was now running past his ears like a waterfall, he turned, taking the stairs instead. He jumped them two at a time, sometimes three or four. He busied himself by looking down, making sure he wouldn't trip. He was running for his life. He had to reach the bottom floor at the same time that she did. He had to stop her from running away. Again. He burst through the doors, a flood of healers, patient and visitors obscuring his view. He couldn't see her, her brown hair or her black dress whatsoever. He was quite aware that he was turning around almost wildly, earning him a few concerned glances from people…who after realizing who he was had trouble looking away. He ran outside of St. Mungo's, and gazed at the streets. He couldn't see her anywhere.

She was gone.

Again.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

"Hermione!" Becky said, as Hermione swung the door open and entered the quaint coffee shop with fresh tears springing from her eyes. The waitress behind the counter began to edge forward, her notepad in her hand, just as Hermione dropped most unceremoniously across Becky at their booth.

Hermione smiled slightly, sniffing as she wiped the back of her hand against her cheeks.

"What happened?" Becky asked.

"They were there," Hermione said, trying to sound happy. She wiped at her eyes, more tears falling. "Harry…Ron…and Luna. And, dammit, Becky…"

"Honey, why'd you run? You've wanted to talk to them since…"

"Since forever, I know," Hermione said, her teeth chattering slightly.

"What can I get you?" the waitress asked, her eyes on her notepad, not looking at either of her customers.

"Do you have some kind of ice cream?" Becky asked, peering at the waitress.

"We have vanilla, chocolate or strawberry."

"Strawberry. Can I get it to go?"

"You can get it on a cone."

"Will do," Becky said.

"And you?" The waitress turned to Hermione, who'd wiped away her tears by then. Her eyes were still red and puffy, and her face pink.

"Coffee. To go."

"Okay," the waitress said dismissively, turning on her heel and marching back to the counter. Once she was gone, Becky turned her attention back to Hermione.

"Honey, I need to know that you're going to be all right once I'm gone –"

"I'll be fine, Becky…"

"No one's going to be there to look out for you –"

"I can take care of myself…"

"We're just all scared, honey."

"I know," Hermione said quietly.

"We want you to be safe. Everyone back at work is just…terrified. No one expected that to happen…"

"I know, neither did I," Hermione said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Becky smiled sympathetically.

"Are you sure…you're going to be staying at your old house…and it's going to be empty…"

"I'm sure."

"Okay," Becky said, opening her purse. She pulled out the pounds required to pay for their orders, and placed it on the table. "I need to head back. Need to keep working on the tomb."

"From the outside," Hermione said a little too quickly and a little too loudly.

"From the outside," Becky seconded, taking her ice cream from the waitress. She bent down, and gave Hermione a hug. "Stay safe, Hermione."

"Take care," Hermione said, taking her coffee. Becky waved her goodbye, and left. And Hermione took a deep breath, before looking at the table and bursting into silent tears. She reached forward and grabbed some napkins, wiping furiously at her eyes. She hated this. She hated everything.

"Are you all right, miss?" the waitress finally asked from the next table, which she was wiping with a cloth.

"Yeah, I'm all right."

"You don't look happy."

"I said I was all right," Hermione said, smiling slightly. "Not that I was happy."

The waitress straightened up and looked at Hermione for the first time. Then she smiled, amused.

"Touché."

Hermione stood up, pulled on her coat, and wiped at her eyes one last time. She picked up her coffee, mimed cheers at the waitress, and left for the old Granger residence.

The empty Granger residence.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

"Okay. The address she's given is of her old home," Luna declared, reading off Hermione's file. Ron looked up, and Harry reached forward, copying the address on a separate paper.

"All right. I'll make my way there…" Harry said, reaching for his coat.

"What's wrong with her?" Ron asked suddenly, causing the other two to stop what they were doing and look at him. He blinked. "Why was she here?"

"There's nothing wrong with her," Harry said off-handedly.

"Luna," Ron said, redirecting his approach.

Luna gazed down at Hermione's file once more.

"They don't know."

Harry spurted slightly. Ron frowned.

"They don't know?" Harry blurted.

"They don't know," Luna said. "It says that…she was working. She's one of those – Merlin, what were they called…? Well, she's one of those people who inspect sites that give off magic and make sure they're safe. Otherwise, they block off these places…hide them from muggles – kind of like Hogwarts. She was on the job, inspecting a recently discovered tomb. Oh – she works in America!" Luna said suddenly, causing the men to jump slightly. "Sorry," she added, realizing. "She works and lives in America…and she and her co-worker were working on the case. Hmm." Luna read a little more, then her smile turned grim. "It was cursed to attack muggleborns. Apparently the owner, or whoever enchanted the tomb looked at them like…"

"Like filth," Harry spat, gritting his teeth. He sat down next to Ron, and Luna took the chair across from them.

"Well, yeah. So the tomb was especially cursed for that. And it must have realized that Hermione was a muggleborn. It attacked her particularly since she cast the first spell…" Luna read on. "The tomb filled up with water, but Hermione broke the enchantment…Oh."

"What?" Harry and Ron asked.

Luna looked up at both of them, a little bothered.

"'Patient must refrain from use of magic, almost indefinitely.'"

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

"_HERMIONE!" Becky bellowed, falling to her knees against the water. It was still flooded, but only to her knees. Waddling around like a helpless duck, she screamed out once more: "HERMIONE!"_

_Whipping around, searching for any possible sign – maybe a direction as to where her friend had gone. The water level was beginning to lower down, so it got easier. Becky waddled towards her backpack, pulling out her wand. She groaned. It had snapped, the upper half dangling dangerously. Oh no. Not again._

_Then there was screaming._

"_Hermione?" Becky shouted, turning around, trying to find the source of the scream. _

_It stopped._

_Becky listened carefully, feeling like a character from a horror movie. All she could hear was the water drops falling from the ceiling. _

_Then Hermione shrieked. Becky felt the odd sensation of her hair standing up. She shook it off, and followed the sound. _

"_Hermione Granger!" she called out, despite knowing how useless it was. _

_She found a slight opening, and crouched, making her way through. The room beyond the openining seemed to be the lowest part of the tomb, and the most…magical. There was even a table in the middle of the room made of stone, stuck to the floor – and on it –_

"_Hermione!" _

_She was so pale…nearing on gray. Becky made her best attempt at running in the shin-high water, before reaching Hermione, and getting a better look. Her eyelids and lips were a faint blue color. Her hair was drenched, and she was covered in cuts. She looked a mess. _

_Becky reached out and touched an area on her neck. Pulse. She was still alive. _

"_Okay…okay…how am I going to get you out of here?" Becky asked the thin air, looking around frantically. The only way out was the only way in. And it was too small a gap for her to carry Hermione out. "Magic?"_

_She yelped in fright as Hermione made a loud gasp and grabbed her arm. _

"_Shit – Hermione! What the –"_

"_Harry?"_

"_No. Becky," Becky said irritably. She softened slightly and helped Hermione up. Hermione slumped down, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes. "Hermione, you're so…you look terrible." Hermione gave her a look before rolling her eyes. "Can you stand?"_

"_Help me," Hermione said. _

_Becky heaved her onto her feet and Hermione almost fell down like an unused rag doll. _

"_In a moment," she said testily. Becky smirked. "Get us out of here, please?" Hermione asked her._

"_My wand's snapped," Becky muttered. _

"_Just like back in New York?"_

"_Just like back in New York."_

_It was Hermione's turn to groan. _

_At the back of her head she could remember Ron's wand having been persecuted in the same way during their second year and it stung her a little. Just a few moments ago she'd stared up at the blurry sight before her eyes and hoped, so much like a little twelve-year-old girl that it was Harry Potter who'd come to her rescue. _

_She picked her wand off the table and held it up shakily. _

"_Do you feel up for side-along apparition?" she smirked._

"_Do I ever," Becky drawled. She held Hermione up, swinging Hermione's left arm around her neck, and held her firmly. "Let's get out of here."_

_Hermione nodded briskly, before closing her eyes and stilling herself. She thought hard, imagining the office. Imagining the walls, the desks, the paperwork and the people who stalked the hallways, always in a rush. _

_Becky watched her friend, nervous. Side-along apparition made everyone nervous, especially her. Their surroundings began to brighten – so she smiled hopefully. It was working._

_Then all the light seemed to evaporate, running towards the centers…towards the source – towards them. Becky barely had a second before she was swept off her feet, onto her bottom and across the room. She hit the nearest wall with a weak thump. Opening her eyes wearily, she saw that all the light was gone. The room had darkened once again. _

"_Hermione?" Becky asked shakily, stumbling to her feet. She fell to her knees, her sides hurting from the collision. Hermione was floating face down in the water._

"_Anybody here? Rebecca? Hermione?" _

"_So-An?" Becky screamed. She gazed at the opening, running towards Hermione._

"_Rebecca? Is that you?" the incoming voice grew more urgent. "The sensors are off their hinges! What've you two done down there?"_

"_Get here now – it's Hermione!" Becky shouted, making her way back to her friend. She rolled Hermione onto her back. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly parted. All her cuts had darkened. Her eyelids were a faint dark blue, and her lips were turning purple. Becky lifted Hermione's hand, which was clutched tight around her wand. Her hand was gushing out blood. "So-An! She's not breathing!"_

_The figure came into view, a man who reached for his own wand and held it to Hermione's face. Becky swatted his hand away. "No – don't do magic inside. Hermione tried to apparate us out and it did this to her."_

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

Harry paced back and forth as Luna spoke personally with Hermione's Healer. Whereas his eyes were glued to the floor, Ron watched Luna intently, searching for signals and reactions. Once Luna was done, she shook the Healer's hand and made her way back to Harry and Ron.

"What'd she say?" Harry asked immediately.

"She's cursed," Luna said. "The Healers don't really understand the curse though. All they've found out so far is that Hermione can't cast spells, and magic has no effect on her. Potions, spells, they won't work on her. And if she casts spells, she ends up hurting herself. They haven't explored into it yet. There's a team back at the site of the incident searching up on anything useful. While they've decided to take things slow here. Hermione's still recovering from the initial attack. But once she's up to it their going to run different tests."

"No countercurse?"

"They don't know. And if there was one, they'd be too scared to use it. I mean, what if something worse happens?"

"What about treatment? Even muggle treatment?"

"Nothing harmful has happened yet, Harry. Except for when she used magic the first time. They want to give her some time to rest first. But they're working on it. Apparently they're going to try and let her use magic a little next week to see if there's any progress."

"They're going to let her cast spells? What if she gets hurt?"

"Hermione consented."

"Oh no, no, no –"

"Harry," Luna said. "It's not your decision."

The two of them exchanged determined glares. Eventually Luna won, and Harry looked away, glowering.

"Look," Luna said, trying to make amends. "Go to her. You have her address. Go see her. Talk to her. Invite her to tonight's dinner!" Luna said, suddenly brightening.

Ron grimaced. "I don't think Hermione would like that."

"It wouldn't hurt to try," Luna told him, before turning to Harry and saying, "wouldn't it?"

Harry only looked at her blankly. Did Luna expect him to have the answer? Because Harry Potter four-to-five years ago would have had the answer. Harry Potter now, well, to put it simply - didn't.

"Come on, mate. Let's go," Ron said, standing up. Luna pushed him back down.

"No way, Ronald. You have to stay and help me fix dinner."

Ron looked mutinous, but under Luna's gaze, shrugged hesistantly.

"Good luck, mate," he said, giving Harry a grim smirk. Harry paused for a moment, matching Ron's somber gaze.

This was Hermione. This was his chance to make things right. He was worried, no doubt about it. No one he knew well and cared about had died in the last four years, and he'd like to keep it that way. Especially someone like her. No. _Especially her. _

Without another word, he gave Ron and Luna a short nod and left, clutching Hermione's address tightly in his hand.

Once he was out of the doors, Ron turned to Luna.

"Luna –" he began, about to ask something Luna already had the answer to.

"Ron. It's Harry, and it's Hermione. This is something they have to settle on their own."

"Right. On their own."

Luna sat down next to him, and he bent his forehead against her shoulder.

"What I'd give to be a kid again."

"You were a prat as a child, Ron," Luna told him sweetly. He smiled, and pecked her on the cheek.

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

Hermione pushed the key into place, and turned it to the right. She was surprised by how easily the lock pulled back. It brought a chill to her neck. She turned the knob slowly, and pushed the door open. It squeaked against the wooden floor.

"Mum? Dad?" she whispered nonchalantly, stepping inside. "Nope. Still in Australia."

She made her way inside, keeping the door open behind her as her source of light. She traced her fingers against the fading wallpaper of the hallway until she made it to the stairs. She stopped though, and turned to her right first, staring at the living room. The pillows were exactly in place. The books on the three-foot bookshelf still intact. They were covered in a thin layer of dust. Hermione glanced to her left. The dining room was still perfect. The table sleek, with the chairs pushed in. She sighed, and made her way upstairs.

She entered her bedroom first, and sat on her bed. Dust spread as she did. Looking around, Hermione stared at the green walls as though she had never seen them before. She could see the numerous pictures taped to the wall. All of them concerning occasions. There were seven pictures though that remained unique.

Seven pictures that moved.

Seven pictures, and though the number of people in each of the pictures varied, there were three people spotted in each: Her, Ron and…Harry.

Hermione stood on her knees, and edged towards the headboard, above which these pictures were found. She touched the middle one, and traced her fingers over the three figures. They were grinning, swinging back and forth infront of the Great Hall. Ron was waving wildly at the camera, before doubling back and laughing. She looked over at her and Harry.

They had their arms around each other's waist, and were both grinning wildly at the camera.

Hermione took a breath, and backed away from the wall. She stood up, and made her way out of the room and towards the stairs. She made loud thuds against the floorboards of the staircase as she made her way down, then stopped short at the last step.

"Hermione."

She looked up at a man standing at the door way. He had his hands in his pockets, and was shuffling slightly, before finding his ground and staring straight at her. His mouth opened, then closed.

Hermione could only nod, her eyes locked to his.

"I…I…"

Harry stammered for the words, but they wouldn't come out. He was taken in by the very sight of her in many ways. It was Hermione. And his brain still had to register the fact that it was really her that was there, not an illusion his mind and heart would have willed. His mouth was hanging open and empty, and he couldn't help but feel awkward and self-conscious.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked like a deer-in-headlights. Her eyes were a little wide in surprise, and her eyebrows were slightly raised. She'd stopped mid-motion. After a moment of silence though, she softened, and ran at him, throwing her arms around his neck.

His arms found their way around her waist instinctively as they hugged – well, more like held each other – and swayed on the spot, cheek against cheek. He could tell that she was crying silently. He just held her closer. He felt her, her skin, her body. Her hair that tickled his neck slightly. The way she smelled, and the sound of her breath.

He just held her.

No words.

There was no need for them.

**A/N: Wow. I've just realized how long it took me to update this. Now, I could give off excuses, but there isn't any excuse at all. So I'll just tell you what I've been up to lately. One, finals - and I mean high school finals. Two, graduating (yay me!) and Three, I had my birthday on March 30 (Smile!) and thus I'm now technically and officially free to go on writing without the burden of going to school the next day.**

**To tell you the truth, I had a number of different ways to go with this third chapter. Eventually, I ended up with this, which is also probably a contributing reason as to why it took so long. I hope you guys like the chapter. Jeez. I sound soppy. Thanks for those who reviewed! And I apologize for any spelling mistakes and errors in terms of tense. Didn't re-read this chapter after I wrote it, cause I wanted to post it so badly.**

**And I know this sounds dramatic, but it was seeing all your reviews that encouraged me to finish the chapter in order to post it. Love you guys! **

**PLEASE REVIEW? As a birthday gift? **


	4. Chapter 4

__The Day You Lost Me__

_CHAPTER 4_

_"All that you had to do, you didn't."_

**A/N: My updating skills are terrible. Here you go, enjoy! Short chapter, but I needed to get it out so I could focus on the next chapter.**

"_When I was a little girl, my mother used to…used to treat me like a little doll. She'd dress me up on occasions. Frills, lace, ribbons. Make-up. She'd do something miraculous to my hair. I looked so…pretty."_

_Harry smiled as he listened to his best friend tell him her childhood memories. They were in the middle of a place he'd rather not bother to learn. They were on the run. Ron had left them a couple of days ago. It was just him and Hermione. _

_He'd never heard Hermione talk about her parents before. Well, he had heard about them. But she'd never told him so much. She never told him about the kind of parents they were. From what he'd learned so far, her mother had been very pleased with having a daughter. And her father, though he never took the first step into a conversation, was very pleased with Hermione's intelligence. _

"_I broke her stupid heart," Hermione muttered all of the sudden, causing Harry to turn to her from his position on his bed. _

_She smiled at him, before wiping a stray tear. _

"_She used to make me up to be some…some princess. And I'd ruin it by being…by being me." A moment; an intake of breath, and then she continued. "I'd ruin it by saying something…something related to books or facts. Or I'd argue with the logic of the guests at the parties. Adults don't like to be made a fool of by children."_

"_Hermione, I'm sure you're exaggerating –"_

"'_Hermione Granger, I have had enough of this. Sweetheart, why can't you just sit still and make mummy and daddy happy?'" Hermione mimicked. _

_Harry paused, and stared at his best friend, who kept her eyes on the ground. _

"_They understood eventually, though, that frills and ribbons was just not me. Books and quills. Books and spells. Books and…books." She inclined her head to the side, and her brow furrowed as she added, "The funny thing was that people at those parties used to tell them how cute or how beautiful their little girl was. But what they meant was the dresses and make-up." Hermione looked up at Harry. "Once they saw the real me…well, you understand."_

"_Hermione –"_

"_Don't, Harry. I don't need to hear it."_

"_I think you do," Harry said, standing up and going over to her place on the chair by the table. He knelt down at her side, and leaned against her knees. "Hermione Granger…"_

"_Yes, Harry Potter?" He grinned as she began to blush. _

"_You're beautiful."_

* * *

"Hermione –" Harry whispered as they parted from their hug.

"We're not the same anymore, Harry," she said softly, not meeting his eyes. She walked away, her arms folded.

* * *

"_Harry, are you all right?" Hermione asked, coming down from the girl's dormitory. Harry looked up from his books, and rubbed his eyes. _

"_Just studying."_

"_Liar," Hermione said, grinning slightly. She sat next to him, and he dropped his head into his arms, pretending to snore. "Harry Potter studying…I've seen more impossible things happen."_

"_I'm hurt, Hermione," Harry said, feigning pain. He tilted his head to look at her. "I'm hurt by the fact that you do not believe that I can study."_

"_I do believe that you can study, Harry - just not without me having to force you to."_

_Harry thought it over for a moment, then shrugged. _

"_You're right."_

"_I'm always right."_

_He smiled. _

"_What're you really doing, Harry?"_

"_Thinking."_

"_About?"_

"_Stuff," Harry said, stretching. _

_Hermione rolled her eyes. "What stuff?"_

"_My sessions with Dumbledore."_

"_Ah."_

"_I think I'm scared."_

"_I'm scared too," Hermione offered. Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "I don't want you to get hurt."_

"_Hoping for the impossible, 'Mione. I always get hurt."_

"_I don't want you to get __**hurt**__," Hermione said, staring him straight in the eyes. _

_Harry understood. Translation: __**I don't want you to die**__. _

"_I won't," he promised her. _

_There was a long silence, before Hermione patted him on the shoulder and stood. _

"_Don't make me any promises, Harry," she said sadly. _

"_I won't die," he said, standing up as well. The chair he had been sitting on fell due to his rashness. "I won't die," he said clearly. "I won't die," he said, huffing, as Hermione threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. _

"_You won't die," she said, her voice muffled. "I won't let you," she added, sounding more assured. _

"_Likewise," Harry said once she looked up at him. "Hermione," he said, smiling. "You can stop hugging me. I'll let you hug me after this is all over."_

_She smiled, blushed, and backed away from him. _

"_If you die," she said lightly. "I'll be right behind you." Pause. "So don't die, Harry," she said finally, smiling. She walked towards the staircase, and stopped at the bottom stair. "Good night, Harry." She turned back and trudged up the stairs, leaving him back in the silence and emptiness of the common room. _

_**If you die, I'll be right behind you.**__ Harry shook off the thought, picked up his books, and headed for the boy's dormitory. _

_**So don't die, Harry.**_

* * *

"Er – What are you – OW!" Harry grunted as Hermione struck him across the face. She'd turned away, then turned back to him in a flash, hitting him. He supposed he would have deserved it if it were a slap. He had previous experience with that. Ginny had slapped him a few times in the past. But Hermione had decked him. Hermione had _decked_ him! Did she…had she…did – "You punched me?" Harry exclaimed, holding his hand to his left cheek as he regained posture and faced her.

He recalled third year, having watched her do the same thing to Malfoy…and how the Harry then had thought it was marvelous. Brilliant, even.

Now it just plain hurt.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I can't exactly cast spells at the moment," Hermione muttered, reaching forward to check his cheek.

"You're insane, you know?" he screamed at her. She gave him a grim look.

"You deserved it."

"I deserved it?" he practically roared, looking at her like she was mad. Then it dawned on him. Her silence. Her lack of nagging. Her lack of confidence. Her lack of…Hermione. "You're the one who walked away!"

"You told me to!"

"Hermione, you were being petty – you were making it as though I was an idiot – like I was making a mistake –"

"Are you happy now then?" Hermione asked him, stepping forward and shoving him slightly. "Was I wrong?"

"Yes –"

"Oh, really?" she asked sardonically.

"Yes!"

"Harry. I know you. You're not happy," she told him flatly.

He stopped, and straightened up, folding his arms.

"Well, I know **you**, Hermione. You're not happy either."

Hermione shrugged, and met his gaze. There was a glint of honesty in her eyes.

"I'm miserable."

O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O – O

_Harry dropped the plate he was holding. It crashed against the wood of the floor. It was two weeks after Hermione had gone, and it had become very obvious that she was not coming back. He, himself, had moved into Grimmauld Place 12. He'd just spent the afternoon searching for these plates, and now he was spending the evening unpacking them…and dropping them on the ground. _

"_Harry, what the -" Ron asked, coming in, a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands. When Harry looked up though, Ron immediately tucked the Prophet under his arms, hiding it from view. _

"_What's it say?" Harry asked, looking at the ground. Ron felt himself tense. There was a shiver in Harry's voice that told him his best friend was around five minutes from losing it. _

"_Nothing bad," Ron stalled. _

"_But?"_

"_It's not taking aim at you, Harry…it's taking aim at…at Hermione."_

"_Well," Harry said. He stumbled a bit, and picked up two plates, holding one in his right hand and one in his left. "That's." He smashed one plate against the floor. "Bullshit." He smashed the other plate. He inhaled deeply and stared at the ceiling, trying to calm down. Harry picked up another plate, but Ron held up his hand and dropped the Prophet on the kitchen table. _

"_Mate, don't –"_

"_Don't what, Ron? What am I doing, exactly?" Harry asked, looking anywhere but Ron._

"_You're drunk, you know that? I can see that bottle behind you, Harry. What is that?" Ron tilted to the side, trying to see the bottle. Harry followed his actions, but slowed a little in his actions, giving Ron an easy gateway. Ron picked up the bottle. "Is this a muggle drink?"_

"_Yeah," Harry murmured. _

"_Vodka?" He'd heard of it before._

"_Yeah." _

_Ron took a whiff of it, then pulled it far from his face. Harry took the bottle, surprising Ron, and drank from it. It had been half-way finished when Ron had picked it up, and now Harry was draining the remaining half. Once he was done, he stepped back into the stove, and dropped the bottle onto the ground, where its smashed up pieces joined the plates. _

"_Bloody hell, Harry," Ron swore, half-carrying Harry out of the kitchen. They made it to the staircase when Harry pushed Ron away and dropped, on his back, onto the bottom stair. He fell with a thud, and groaned. "You're in a right state, you know that?"_

"_She's a bitch, Ron."_

"_Who?"_

"_Hermione."_

_Ron scoffed, and tried to pick Harry up again. "Do you honestly believe that?"_

"_I loved her."_

"_So did I."_

"_No, Ron," Harry said, pushing his friend away again. He stared at Ron with his bloodshot eyes. "I loved her enough to never – ever – leave her. I guess she didn't feel the same." Then he dropped backwards, his head coming in contact with a step again, and began to snore. _

_And Ron sighed. He did not try to pick his best friend up. He did not try to wake him. Harry was right, in a way. Well, not that Ron could speak. He knew that he had once abandoned Hermione…and Harry too, for good measure. But Harry had never abandoned Hermione. And for Hermione to abandon Harry well…that **was** bullshit. _

_And maybe, just maybe, even for just that moment and that situation…Hermione had been quite the bitch._

* * *

They'd been quiet for the past ten minutes. Hermione hadn't asked him to leave, and she only hit him that one time. After she said she was miserable, there was a change in her eyes. Like all her defenses had gone down, and she was Hermione again. She hated the feeling, and made her best attempt at escaping Harry's company. She knew she could have told him to leave, but he wouldn't have listened anyway. Hadn't she walked out of St. Mungo's earlier? Didn't she ignore him, and practically run away? And did he take notice? Did he read between the lines that were so obvious and begging him to stay away? No! He bloody well looked up her file and found her address, or so he was mentioning now as she ruffled in the attic, searching through the many left-behind boxes.

"Are you wondering how I got your address?" he'd asked carefully, trying to keep his tone light. Trying to stay void of emotions.

Hermione could have scoffed at his attempt to keep things friendly. To make it sound like being at her house was something he did very often, and seeing her was done on a regular basis. She merely bent down, her knees supporting her as she searched deep in one of the two trunks found in the attic. She wasn't exactly sure what she was looking for…but she'd find it. Or atleast she would keep searching, and maybe Harry would get tired of trying to talk to her.

"I – er – took a look at your file –"

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to do that." Her voice was quiet, and it wasn't dripping with accusation. It was just a comment. A fact.

"No. But Luna works for St. Mungo's so she was able to –"

"Get my file."

"Yeah. And we saw that –"

"You know. You know that I can't cast magic, atleast not for a while," she snapped, pulling herself out of the trunk and turning to him, hands gripping onto the edge of the trunk.

"It said 'indefinitely', Hermione," was his soft reply.

Hermione fought back the burning behind her eyes. The way he said it. Like she was destined to live the rest of her life like that. That she couldn't use magic anymore. That the past eleven years of her life were a total waste, and no, she wasn't going to get that time back anymore. As though Harry Potter, great, good and mighty, _pitied_ her. As though this crash of events was the main reason he was there. He pitied her. Poor Hermione Granger, can't make use of her wand anymore. Poor Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age...well, she's not a witch anymore, now is she? Poor, weak, stupid, dumb, runaway Granger.

She couldn't help it. She just let out a sob, and that just led to another one, and pretty soon her chest was heaving and her body trembling. She had turned and sat on one of the boxes, her right palm against her forehead as she cried. He moved forward, ready to put his arms around her, but she held up her left hand.

"No. Don't. Don't."

He ignored her, reaching forward, and she stood up abruptly, knocking the box over as she had been sitting on. She turned away from him.

"No. Harry. Please."

She felt as though her chest was burning. She couldn't breathe. All her energy was forced upon trying to breathe, and she couldn't do it. Just another disappointment. Something else she could no longer do. It was like her chest felt heavy, but on the inside it was just hollow. Her hands were balled up into fists, covering her face, as she sobbed. She tried to hold it back, but every time she did, it felt as though she was dying. Yet every time she let out a sob, it felt like she was paper thin.

It was like she could feel all the pain again, and it was attacking her chest. It was attacking her lungs. And attacking her heart. She was pretty sure she could feel her blood clog up as she cried, her tears feeling hot against her cheeks. Like fire burning through paper. And the ashes were collecting at her feet.

She walked past him, running as she went downstairs and locked herself in the bathroom. She climbed into the tub, and pulled the shower curtain shut, holding back her sobs again. She could cry, she could cry all she want. But she wouldn't want to hear it. She wouldn't want to hear herself break down.

Chest heaves up. Chest heaves down.

Still no air.

She could hear his footsteps as he came downstairs. The house was so silent. So silent.

_Oh, God. Mum. Dad, _she thought, her hand coming to her mouth, clamping it shut to stop the sobs that followed the thought.

She could hear him walk up to the bathroom, and she could hear his breathing.

_What have I done?_

It was a good three more sobs before she heard him slowly walk away.

Chest heaves up. Chest heaves down. Tears falling down her eyes, dripping off her chin, falling to her hands. Falling to her lap. Falling. Bits and pieces.

_Harry. Harry. Harry. Oh, God. Harry._

Chest heaves up. Chest heaves down. Her body felt cold.

She could feel everything rushing in. The sight of him as he walked into her house. The sight of his hair, still unruly, still worth running your hand through it.

_I'm sorry I walked away._

The sight of him. He'd grown up. He'd grown up. They'd all grown up. They weren't children anymore. They weren't even recognizable to each other. There was so much difference. So much time had passed, and in that time they'd turned into different people.

_Oh, God. It hurts. So much._

Chest heaves up. Chest heaves down. She tried her best to suck in the sobs, but that just made her throat hoarse and her ribs feel crushed. Like she was vomiting, except that she felt nothing inside. Nothing at all.

She wiped at her eyes, hoping that her tears would come to a stop. Hoping that if she tried to stop her tears from falling out, they'd catch on and listen to her.

_Harry._

Each time she wiped her eyes, a new thought rushed to her mind, causing it to hurt even more. Making her tears fall harder. Each time she tried to stop, it just got harder.

_You chose Cho._

She could hear the door slowly creak open, and hear the door shut. There was no loud bang. There was no shattering crash. He had shut it as quietly as he could.

_You chose Ginny._

Eventually she just gave up, and leaned her head backwards against the edge of the tub. Her knees bent, and her arms leaning against them.

_You chose everyone else._

And then it stopped. It stopped so suddenly, she thought she'd cried herself to sleep. There was a slight tremble as her lips threatened to let out a sob, but she just closed her eyes, and inhaled as much air as she could. There were no more tears. Nothing coming out, everything still inside. Like the only pain left was the one left at the bottom of her, and she just couldn't reach it.

_All you had to do was choose me._

**A/N: Review?**


	5. Chapter 5

__The Day You Lost Me__

_CHAPTER 5_

"_Thank You."_

"_Harry," Ginny spoke up, unfolding her arms. _

_She looked at her husband, who was sitting on the chair directly across from her, hunched over. His eyes were focused on the ground, and his hands were clasped together. He looked so still, and she couldn't even put into words how much it scared her. It was like there was nothing left for him to do. But it wasn't as though she was particularly talkative at the moment. She was sitting on the bed, staring at the sheets, trying to find an answer in them. But it was too quiet, and there was nothing else heard in the room except the sound of two people breathing._

"_Harry," she tried again. _

_The only sign of recognition she got was his breath hitching as he heard her voice. Harry was no longer in the mood for outbreaks, which meant that he had to keep his mouth shut. He was tired of the same cycle they seemed to be following. They'd break each other down, then pick each other up, then break each other down, then pick each other up. He didn't want to break down anymore, and he was tired of being picked up. His breathing grew strained as he leaned forwards towards the ground, his head bent down. _

_It was her third attempt that finally got to him._

"_Harry."_

_He leaned backwards, and inhaled deeply. It came down to this moment, and he was tired of the misery they both felt. He savored the feeling of his lungs clearing out as he exhaled deeply and stood, feeling as though the act had left him with a new found strength. He walked towards the door; didn't know exactly what he was doing, but he knew who he was going to. The house was like a Cold War. Silence…and then after things got too mellow something would explode. _

_There _were_ other people living here too. _

_There was Teddy._

_Harry couldn't take it. There was just so much…it was just all gone. There was a big empty space where something else should have been, and that empty space was eating him up. He couldn't look at Ginny. He couldn't even understand what was going on between them. What had happened to the woman he'd married? What had happened to them? How could it have come to this…?_

"_Harry," Ginny cried, alarmed as she scrambled off the bed to follow him. _

_She watched him as he entered, and bent over Teddy who was sleeping. She knew what he was going to do. She knew it, and couldn't even bring herself to stop him. She was done yelling at him, and having him ignore it. She wanted him to just let it all out already, and blow up, so that things could maybe calm down again. But Harry wasn't like that. He wouldn't flare. He wouldn't burn for her just so she could stop. But she could think, and she could scream. And right now her mind was screaming: HARRY POTTER, DON'T YOU DARE. DON'T YOU DARE. PLEASE._

_On the outside, she was just frowning. On the outside, her eyes were just tired, glazed with all they'd been through as she stared at the floor, doing nothing. Her brow furrowed, and she pulled her arms around her, her heart thumping in her chest. Harry lifted the boy, trying his best not to wake him. _

_He was no longer hesitating._

_But she just couldn't…just couldn't bring herself to move._

_Teddy stirred slightly, making soft noises. Harry soothed him, cradling his godson in his arms as he continued to wake despite Harry's best wishes. The boy looked over his shoulder at Ginny, who was stepping from side to side, gripping at the sleeves of her sweater, unable to follow them. _

_Harry practically hopped down the stairs, his momentum picking up as he opened the door. He was getting there. He was going to do something that would be better for the both of them. He was almost -_

"_Please don't leave."_

_She'd finally found her voice. It was trembling, but it was there. A quiet plea._

_Harry looked at her, then around at the house he no longer knew. His eyes fell to his godson, his only living relative. Even if it was just by his obligation, Teddy was _family_. He looked back at the woman who he had thought he loved. Who he had once seen a future with. But there was no future; not even a present. Teddy was tugging onto Harry's collar as he drifted quietly back to sleep, his tiredness catching up on him. Harry looked down at the boy, a perfect mixture of Tonks and Remus, and he thought about his promise to them and his promise to himself – Everything. Anything. For Teddy._

_He turned around, his back to his old life, his hand on the doorknob. _

_He turned it, and felt the cool air greet his skin as he stepped outside. _

_There was a soft click as he shut the door…and then they were gone. _

* * *

"You didn't tell me she was back."

Harry had excused himself from the table almost as soon as possible, and shuffled out of sight into one of the spare rooms. He'd been enjoying his moment of silence…not that the dinner hadn't been silent. The news that Hermione was back didn't exactly earn the same reaction from the others as it had from Harry, Ron and Luna. And no matter how many times he twirled the information around, it still felt wrong to him. Everything was going wrong.

"You haven't spoken at all this dinner," Ginny added when he said nothing in reply. Typical Harry. But she wasn't accusing him, for which he was thankful. She sounded concerned instead, but stood cautious. It wasn't that she didn't care anymore, it was that caring was no longer an option lest you just want to be disappointed.

Harry looked at her, then at the ground. Sounds of laughter could be heard from the living room, where the rest of the family was huddled up, clutching cups of coffee and talking about their day. Somewhere along the line he heard Victoire give a squeal of delight, followed by cheer and cooing.

His eyes met Ginny's, and she followed through, not letting up. She wasn't going to back down. She wasn't going to let him shut her out.

"Will you please talk to me?" she asked suddenly, pulling on whatever strands were left between them. "Please?"

He walked towards her, his eyes falling on her for a moment, before he turned towards the door. Ginny sighed, closing her eyes in defeat.

_Harry, please don't leave._

And he didn't.

He just shut the door, and turned to her. There was amicability in his eyes. They were already too worn from fighting. He faced her, his voice sounding rough, but not unfriendly, as he spoke.

"Let's talk."

* * *

"_Harry?" Ginny called as she jogged up the stairs of Grimmauld Place 12. She leaned against the banister, finally spotting that one open door, and headed toward it. She knocked on the doorframe, and looked at Harry, who was sitting inside, holding a book open on his lap. There was something about the concentration he had going. It wasn't as though he was reading. No. He wasn't reading…he was just staring. But what was he staring – "Tales of Beedle the Bard?" Ginny asked, eyebrow raised in surprise._

_Harry finally looked up, momentarily flustered at being caught, but then he smiled. She entered, and sat down next to him, giving him a tender kiss on the cheek. He turned his face, to catch her lips in a proper kiss. It was short, but still left them both feeling light-headed and light-spirited._

"_It was Hermione's," Harry explained, shutting it quietly. _

_He cast the book one more uneasy glance, before flicking his wand and sending it towards a shelf, where it settled itself between two books. Two books about Runes, Ginny noted. The gears in her head began to click into place as she turned to her husband with a sad, sympathetic smile._

_Her _husband_. They'd been married just two months, and yet she couldn't help but feel her heart give a flutter as she thought of it. She was his wife. He was her husband. They. Were. Married. _

_Her sad smile must have transformed into a dreamy one, because Harry promptly kissed her out of her reverie. She blushed slightly, and kissed him back. His hand rose to her cheek, but she was already backing away from the kiss, albeit reluctantly. She looked around the room, giving it a short review. _

_Open drawers with what looked like women's clothes inside (not hers, mind). Two shelves stocked with various books (not hers, nor Harry's for the matter). Books on Runes. Books on Dark Arts. Books on Potions, Charms, Transfiguration and –_

"_This for Hermione, isn't it?" she sighed, turning back to Harry. But he merely gave her a weak smile and a shrug. _

_She got off the bed, and walked towards the dresser, picking up a beaded purse set on it. She turned towards Harry, leaning against the dresser, her fingers twirling the straps of the purse. She caught his eyes snap to the purse, and there was something in the way he looked at it that told her he was remembering something. She raised the purse, and he shook his head slightly, breaking away from his memory._

_Then she said it, the same words that dampened both their hearts._

_His because his heart was still breaking over his best friend. Hers because she could already see just how long he would be willing to hang onto the pieces._

"_You're going to wait for her, aren't you?"_

* * *

Ginny bit back a gasp as Harry swiftly moved towards her, causing her nerves to jump as they became separated by just a handful of inches. She could practically feel the heat radiating off him from the anxiety.

Then he raised his hand and rested it on the side of her face, running his fingers into her hair. There was something foreign to the feeling now. Ginny's presence used to make him happy. Running his hands through her hair used to always make him want to bend down and kiss her. But there was nothing there now, and they both knew it.

He did however bend down, and she flinched, afraid that maybe he might try. It was like they were children again. It felt embarrassing, but not in the same way. It didn't make her heart flutter. It just made her blood flush down to her knees. His lips were so close to hers she could feel his warm breath against her skin and her lips.

_Please don't let him kiss me. Please don't._

Thoughts she never would've guessed she'd think.

But the truth was that she was scared. The doubt grew between them, and she knew just as well as he did that a kiss would change nothing. It was better not to try, and it would hurt less.

_Harry Potter's wife._ The title didn't even sound plausible anymore. It seemed like something you just write, or something you just say in order to fill up records or papers. It was like your address, required, but never really given much thought.

She didn't feel like his wife anymore, and he didn't feel like her husband. There was a mutual gap between them that no amount of physical contact or presence could fill.

Bright green eyes met bright brown eyes. His eyes were careful, hers kept themselves on guard. There was a lot of emotion there, but he knew his were brought up by other reasons. Harry let out a long breath as he took two defined steps backwards, and Ginny relaxed. She couldn't take it anymore. She just couldn't.

There was something missing at that moment, and it was slowly crushing them. She just couldn't.

"Do you still love me?" Ginny breathed.

* * *

"_HARRY! HARRY!" Ginny thundered as she walked into Grimmauld Place 12. He'd walked out the day before, and the minute she got back – less than five minutes ago, she'd found that all things belonging to him and Teddy were gone. All. Gone. "HARRY POTTER, YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE LIKE THAT! YOU CAN'T JUST WALK IN AND TAKE OFF AS YOU PLEASE!" she bellowed up the staircase. _

_A mess of black hair came into view, and Harry found himself unable to say anything but: "Ginny?" _

"_Har – HARRY!" she yelled as he quickly ducked his head out of view. _

_She marched up the stairs, ignoring the paintings as they complained and tried to bicker with her. She found him on the same floor, and she bleeding knew that he would be in the same room. She placed her hand on the doorframe to maintain her balance as she caught sight of the scene before her._

_Harry was inside the room, bent over what looked like broken glass, sweeping it up with his hand of all things. She felt like she was going to lose it then. His palm bore small cuts and he was biting his lip at the slight stings. And beside the broken glass was the remains of a broken picture frame, split into several wooden pieces. _

"_Harry," she said softly, kneeling at his side. "This isn't good."_

"_What isn't good?" he asked her absently, still picking up the glass. He was picking at a certain piece, almost too small to be picked up. Harry slammed his hand against the piece. "Damn it," he swore under his breath._

"_Maybe it's time you let go."_

"_There's nothing to let go of," was his short reply as he carried the glass and dumped it in a nearby bin. He returned to the spot and began to pick up the wooden pieces. He was picking them up, completely ignoring the picture from the frame. _

_Hermione. It was a picture of Hermione._

"_You keep chasing this possibility that you'll find her, and you haven't even actually tried searching," she said to him, snatching the picture and shoving it towards him. He caught it, not meeting her eyes._

_Then she gasped as he crushed it in his fist. _

"_You're running in circles, Harry."_

_She waited for him to reply. To snap back at her like he sometimes did. But he just shook his head, and fiddled with the wooden pieces in his hands. _

"_What if she's worth it, Gin? She's always been worth it. She's always been worth so much." He shook his head, exasperated. Tired. Broken. "That…can't…change." He looked up at her, eyes filled with worry. "I moved out."_

_She grimaced slightly. "Pointing out the obvious, Harry. Why do you think I came here?"_

"_To drag my arse back home?" he offered, almost smiling. _

_Ginny wanted to smile too, but she shook her head at his question instead._

"_Maybe…" she began. "Maybe it'd be better if you stayed here for a while."_

_Harry was speechless._

"_Maybe…" Ginny added, taking the opportunity to get this out. "Maybe we need to re-evaluate this marriage."_

* * *

"Ginny, I'm sorry," he said with so much sincerity that she managed to give him a small smile. He looked up at her, and found her eyes glazed with fresh tears as they slid down her cheeks.

He was sorry. She knew it, and that was all she really needed to know. That she wasn't treated like a mistake – young love and all that's ruined because of it. It didn't stop the tears from falling softly down her cheeks, but the burden and fear she once felt in her chest were now gone, and she felt like she could finally breathe again.

She wiped at her eyes before settling herself into the armchair. Harry pulled up the second one, and they were sitting across each other, armchair to armchair, their knees almost brushing against each other.

Her smile wasn't stretched or forced. It felt natural, and she felt lighter just by doing it. It felt as though she were smiling away a great heavy load that just didn't exist anymore. All that fear that she a mistake. All that fear that he thought they were a mistake. It was all gone.

Harry held his hand out to her, and she took it, giving him a light squeeze before pulling her hand away. There was a small moment where her smile slid off her face, but when she looked back at him, it returned. She wasn't angry anymore. She didn't feel like fighting, and she didn't feel like going on when she knew there was nothing left to go on for.

"You know how wizarding marriages are different from muggle ones, right?" she asked him.

He nodded, but avoided her eyes as he quoted the line he remembered well. "'Bonded for life'."

"I've heard that muggles have the option of something called 'divorce', and how that usually means that they don't have to be married anymore."

Harry nodded again. His voice was void of emotion. Everything coming out of his mouth was recited as though it was a fact. "Wizarding marriages don't have 'divorce' options."

"Yes. But…bonds can be broken," she said softly, taking a deep breath. "The Marriage Bond doesn't mean that you will be bonded until somebody dies. Magic is all about love, Harry. And love plays a very effective role in magic. I think you know that."

He nodded. "My mother." He couldn't help but say it with a small smile, which she returned as she nodded.

"So, you see, magic believes that there is life where there is love. 'Bonded for life' isn't a death sentence, Harry. It just means…bonded while the love lives."

"I never wanted to hurt you, Gin. I thought –"

"- that it'd be forever," Ginny said, nodding in agreement. She pulled her hands away from her face, and looked at him with a bitter smile. "So did I." Ginny readjusted herself, and found the strength to look him in the eye as she continued. "Magic also believes that there should never be hate where there was once love. Marriage, when it comes to the wizarding world, is never a mistake, and the choice to be bonded and get married should never be regretted. But there are…times…when even magic accepts that the love is not anymore."

"But –"

She held her hand up, shaking her head slightly at him. She needed to finish this.

"So, well…the laws the bond stands by state that if there is no hate between the bonded people…and if there is no longer any love…then there is no need for the bond."

"Wizarding divorce," Harry muttered, his head beginning to ring as the words dove into his brain.

Ginny shook her head. "Not really. Wizards don't believe in divorce, Harry. They don't believe in the right to just leave someone because you're unhappy. You have to always consider you partner in all of it. That's why it's not called 'breaking' a Marriage bond. It's merely 'ending'. It has to be an agreement. I believe they thought of it this way: You both agreed to be bonded, now you must both agree to be unbonded. If there are any ill-feelings coming from either husband or wife…if one blames the other for what has happened between them…it won't happen. Magic is very particular about sincerity. I guess wizards just didn't want bonds to end because of pettiness."

There was a silence that Ginny allowed as Harry considered the information she'd just provided him.

"We are not petty people," she whispered to him. Although maybe she was saying it to herself as well.

He looked up at her, and he was actually smiling.

"No. We're not."

"So, do you still love me, Harry Potter?" she asked him, inclining her head slightly to gesture that he should answer properly. "We're both done hurting anyway. We could do with some peace."

"I want to believe that I do, Gin. I swear," he said sincerely, ignoring her last bit. He didn't want to hurt her. That was one thing. He just never wanted to hurt her. Not intentionally. Never.

"Do you still love me, Harry Potter?" she asked again, smiling to acknowledge his answer. She waited for him to find the words, and tried to meet his eyes…to let him know that it was all right to tell the truth. And it was. If it wasn't, they wouldn't have gotten this far.

"No." It was as small a word as that, and it came out like a whisper. Ginny nodded, turning away from him for a moment. He looked at her, and found himself also asking: "Do you still love me, Ginerva Potter?"

Ginny looked down at her hands, her fingers fumbling around her wedding ring. She kept twisting it from side to side. But she wasn't pulling it off. Harry knew how easily she could do it. She once chucked it at him during a fight. She just seemed to be finding it difficult to look at it, so she looked at him, and gave him a genuine smile. No anger. No grudges. Not even a sense of pain.

"No."

The word must have been a stunning spell, because he couldn't feel anything after it. A few seconds passed before a new feeling dawned on him.

Ice-cold water.

It felt as though ice-cold water had been poured on his head, and was soaking his clothes and his body, but there wasn't even a droplet to be spotted. He could move now, no longer feeling stunned. When the feeling passed, he felt as though a huge cut in his heart had been stitched up. There was no more looming darkness above his head.

Their eyes found each other again, but they were looking at each other in a whole different light. There was no more shame, no regret at what they had said, and what they were no longer feeling towards each other.

"Unfortunately, when we forfeit our bond, we forfeit our rings," she said with a small smile. And he saw it. No more rings. "Bonds can be broken, Harry," Ginny repeated once more as she stood up.

Harry stood up as well, and held out his arms awkwardly. Ginny beat the awkwardness out of him by giving him a tight embrace. And he just went out and said it.

"You'll find it one day," he swore to her. She leaned backwards to get a better look at his face. She was smiling; crying again, but her smile was a bowl to catch her tears.

"You'll…she'll…" she blinked, trying to get the tears out of her eyes. "She'll stay. She'll stay for you."

And he just smiled at her in response, hugging her once more and giving her a quick kiss on the top of her head.

"Thank you," he whispered.

* * *

_Ron was acting on a hunch here, but as he trudged up the stairs of Grimmauld Place 12, he knew that he was right. By the time he reached the bedroom he had been aiming for, he could already hear muttering coming from inside. He grinned, thinking to himself: Ten points to Gryffindor. Well earned, Mr. Weasley._

_He would even wager another ten points that when he opened the door, he would probably find Harry by the bookshelf, holding or looking at Hermione's books. He was always doing that, examining them in some way or the other. It was like he was trying to find clues. Ofcourse, well…he hadn't. _

_Ron gripped onto the doorknob, and swung. He would have taken a step forward. He would have jovially greeted his friend with a certain loudness and spirit that could make Harry cringe._

_Instead, he groaned. _

_Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley. _

_"Have you finally lost it?" Ron asked weakly, staring at the mess before his eyes. _

_He could see that drawers had been pulled out and placed on the bed, clothes strewn across haphazardly. Books lay in piles. Some opened, some tossed at the side. And there was just something about the room then that invigorated him. Right there and then._

_"Sorry," Harry said, pushing clothes off one of the drawers, and carrying it back. He slid it into place, his eyes bouncing back from the drawer to the clothes, to other scraps that had been cast around the room. Everything was a mess. Everything looked disorganized._

_But there was something else. Something was nagging at him, and he couldn't figure it out. It wasn't the lack of concentration in Harry – this he had grown accustomed to whenever Harry made one of his magnificent spur-of-the-moment decisions to do with Hermione. He once walked out of practice in the very middle of it, and just left Ron behind to explain why he had suddenly run off. He once left a Weasley dinner early, leaving Ginny behind even to return to this one room. _

_Luna had gone on the record many times before saying it broke her heart to see Harry so disheveled. It was like one minute he was a normal wizard, and the next his heartbeat was racing, his breathing was coarse and he had this glint of determination in his eyes that just shone against the light. He became a different person then. _

_He would spend hours in the room, either looking for something, or just enjoying the one part of Hermione that remained. Sometimes Ron would join him, and they'd play a game of Wizard's Chess. Every time a piece got killed off, the owner of that piece would give out a tidbit about Hermione. They played that game atleast twice a year. For example, that one time three years after she'd left. _

_"Argh. Why'd you have to do that?"_

_"Your rook was begging for it, Harry."_

_"Fine, fine."_

_"Go on then. Get it over with so I can continue kicking your arse at this game."_

_There was a bit of silence; a moment of thought. _

_Then a familiar grin; a moment of reminiscing. _

_"Those planner things she gave us that one Christmas!"_

_"Bloody – I forgot about those. I think mine's still stuffed up in the attic of the Burrow. Where's yours?"_

_"I'm…I'm not. Wait. I think it's…here it is."And Ron had watched as Harry bent down in the closet over another box. He had craned his neck to try and see what was inside. More of Hermione's things? _

_And then Harry pulled it out. A planner._

_Nope, Harry's things...from Hermione._

_"…dot…i…" the planner groaned as Harry opened it._

_Then they both burst out laughing until they couldn't breathe, as always, and all the facts would come pouring out. _

_"She punched Malfoy!"_

_"Ron, you need to stop mentioning that. You mention it every time."_

_"Not all of us can be as original as you, Harry! We haven't noticed what she smells like –"_

_"Vanilla. Oddest thing."_

_"Yeah. _That's _what's odd. Not the fact that you somehow managed to catch on to the fact that she smells like vanilla."_

_"It's not my fault you have a troll's sense of smell –"_

_"The troll in first year!"_

_"Bloody brilliant that was..."_

_More laughter. _

_"Goodness, I miss her."_

_Silence._

_"Harry?"_

_"I miss her too."_

_Silence. _

_The same silence that enveloped the room then as Ron tried to find that bit that was pulling at his strings and trying to make him remember. He just couldn't find it, and he knew he was openly searching now. Harry was re-stacking books. _

_"Oh." _

_And Harry just smiled, knowingly as he shook his head at his best friend._

_"Finally got your troll's sense of smell fixed then, didn't you?"_

_And Ron just chuckled, walking to the bed and picking up the drawer. He slid it back into its place, just as Harry walked over with the last drawer. Once that was in place, they moved towards the clothes. _

_Harry didn't look disheveled anymore. He looked like the most stable and calm person, who'd survived all the books and furniture flying at him. He was concentrating. And then he said the most obvious thing, with the saddest voice; a voice Ron knew would have broken Luna. Heck, it could have broken him. Harry was just being honest now. There was a low tone to his voice, and an obvious misery to the edge of his words._

_He was having one of those moments where he would say something to do with Hermione, and make it sound like a secret. No one else could know. And not the good kinds of secrets. The kinds of secrets that told you: This person really trusts me if he's telling me this. _

_It wasn't as though Ron didn't know. And it wasn't as though Harry had forgotten that they'd just mentioned it earlier, albeit discretely._

_But he said it anyway. _

_"It smells like her in here."_

_Twenty points to Mr. Potter._

**A/N: Thank you for bearing with me during this. Next chapter will be completely Harry and Hermione – PROMISE. I did this chapter so that ONE: The Harry/Ginny thing could end peacefully and TWO: So you guys could get an insight into how Harry dealt and felt about Hermione and Hermione leaving.**

**About the way I dealt with the Marriage Bond, this is my explanation in the simplest terms: I just believed that marriage and divorce in the Wizarding world was about it being sincere, without the hatred and the anger we can sometimes see in normal divorces since normal divorces might sometimes be one-sided, or afterwards the couple end up hating each other. So I figured that maybe – just maybe – if both parties were okay with it, and there was no hate, then there was no point for magic to force them to be with each other. Because *that* isn't love. Please don't flame me if you think it was a bad way for me to deal with it. I just didn't want to make Ginny a necessarily bad person. **

**Review?**


	6. Chapter 6

__The Day You Lost Me__

_Chapter 6_

_"It wasn't the day I left."_

_Hermione tilted her head to the side, her eyes watching Harry. His eyes on the other hand were focused on something afar, and his fork was absently poking at a slice of toast. She stifled a chuckle at her best friend's lack of mindful presence, and nudged him lightly. Harry turned away from whatever he was looking at, but not before Hermione had managed to steal a glance at – ah. _

_Cho Chang._

_Harry looked away sheepishly, his cheeks slightly redder than they should have been. Hermione rolled her eyes at him, smirking, as she turned back to her own breakfast. She felt slightly giddy as she met Neville's eyes across the table and cupped her mouth with her hand, giggling. Neville chuckled slightly, shaking his head. _

_And then the words came out of her mouth before she'd the chance to think them over._

"_You should just tell her, Harry."_

_Because with a sigh, Hermione was Harry's best friend. And this sort of thing fell under that category. He was too busy staring at other girls, anyway, and nothing she did could ever steer herself away from her 'Best Friend and Nothing Else' image in Harry's mind._

_It was, after all, the logical thing to do._

_And logic did hurt, right?_

_Harry scoffed at her, but his cheeks were still burning as he reached forward for the pitcher of pumpkin juice. His arms seemed to work against him as he knocked Hermione's goblet down in the process and it spilled, leaking past the pages of her book and off the table and onto her skirt. Hermione gasped, her hands scurrying towards the book. Harry jumped a little as well, grabbing the nearest napkin he could find, and handing it to her, his hands fumbling in embarrassment. _

_Hermione was grumbling slightly as she cringed, rubbing at the stain on her book, and Harry could have laughed if it hadn't been his fault. Hermione was more focused on her books than on her skirt. _

_Any other girl in the room would have probably paid more attention to their skirt than their books._

_But not Hermione._

_Hermione was different._

* * *

Hermione stared at herself in the mirror, lost in her thoughts.

The week had gone by fast. Every day seemed to unfold into the night, and then she'd shut her eyes, and shut off the world...and when she was back, it was day again. She didn't keep tabs on anything, nothing even the date. Until the night before she noticed that her second appointment to St. Mungo's was due the next day...which is, to say, today.

There are many good attributes to letting the days slip by. The most useful of which she discovered that blankness masked pain. What was out of mind, was truly out of mind. And as she slid open the drawer, and pulled out her watch, her eyes fell on a discarded necklace she knew once belonged to her mother. Her fingers brushed against the chain, before she shut the drawer defiantly and put her ghosts to sleep. For now anyway.

She'd been sleeping in her parents' room the whole stay so far, and barely went near her own room. It felt comfortable and she felt safer in her parents' bed. There was something about the bed that was different from the rest of the house.

The bed told her: _I'll keep you warm, and I'll remind you of your family without reminding you of what you _did_ to your family, and that will help you feel safe. _

While the rest of the house told her: _It's empty. It's empty, and you know why. You should. _

And then she'd blink back whatever tears threatened to escape, and whisper to herself, "I did it. I did it and I'm not sorry. I loved them, and that's why I did it. I did it. I did it and I'm not...I'm not sorry."

And despite every logical fiber in her being stating otherwise, it always seemed like she was pleading to the walls and the rooms. That she was explaining herself to the furniture in the hopes that it'd forgive her and make the house feel a little less dead.

She'd be okay after that, taking a deep breath or two, before finding some other way to distract herself. Hermione pulled out some lipstick from a drawer, and uncapped the thing. It was barely used. She pressed it to the mirror, and wrote:

_It's not empty._

Then, slowly, she lowered her hand, and wrote with a weak grasp on the lipstick:

_Yes it is. _

She took her signature two deep breaths, and turned away from the mirror. She stood, ready to face the dreaded dreadful music, and took hold of her purse. Her eyes were trained at the floor, making sure she wouldn't trip over the carpet as she trotted lightly down the wooden stairs.

Then she stopped.

Every muscle came to a jolt and just…stopped.

Her purse dropped to the ground as her hands turned to the banister for support. Her legs would have given out, and she was pretty much sure that all the blood in them was focused on her toes and those awful heels.

She slowly continued the descent down the stairs, taking it step by step, leaving her purse as it was. Her eyes went around the room at an almost alarming rate, jumping from one corner to the next. Jumping from the table to the floor to…everything.

She just couldn't believe it.

By the time she was about to set foot on the wooden panels of the ground, she hunched over and pulled off her heels, carrying them with her as she changed support-systems and leaned against the wall. Now that the blood flow had resumed, she felt a little better, if not awfully shocked.

She entered the living room, and gasped. The heels fell to the ground, and she didn't flinch or glance at them.

Her head felt lighter, and her heart was thumping in her throat. It was like she had a fever, and had taken so much medicine the world was spinning. And there was only one thing she wanted to do: Smile.

So she couldn't help it.

She _smiled_.

Turning around with a last glance at the living room, she made her way to the dining room, and stepped inside, almost shaking her head and laughing in disbelief. She would have been jumping too if she wasn't too surprised to function properly. She would have been squealing, maybe, if it were a different day, a different time. Her heart just felt warmer then. The entire house felt warmer.

The entire day felt warmer.

She finally settled herself at the dining table, and sat down at the chair that had been hers once long ago, on dinners, lunches and all meals in general. It didn't cast a shadow on her mood. It didn't darken her perspective.

It felt as though the fatigue she felt in the house had apparated away.

Everything was just brighter. And as she reached forward, she touched the daffodil belonging to a vase of what looked like twenty daffodils, and smiled as her fingers clasped lightly onto a petal.

She pulled the daffodil out of the vase of many, and pulled it closer, as though wanting to examine it and determine that it was real.

The entire house was filled with daffodils. The living room. The hallway. The dining room. Probably even the kitchen.

One. Thousand. Daffodils.

She didn't even have to count. She just knew.

One. Thousand. Daffodils.

Hermione smiled as she popped the daffodil back into place and looked around to survey the gift. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, almost calmed by the gesture if not the flowers that flooded her home.

_Home_.

It almost felt like home. Home after a vacation. Home, on a sunny day. Home, on a special occasion. Home, the first day after she got back from school. Home.

She opened her eyes and looked back at the daffodil she'd picked up.

"'_Send her a thousand daffodils'_."

* * *

"_Harry, I'm fine," Hermione said tiredly as she left the bathroom, her clothes cleaned and her book open in her hands. The pages were still stained, and when she shut the book, they made a distinct slushing noise. She cringed at it, but still took her seat next to Harry on the bench. _

"_I'm sorry, Hermione. I wasn't thinking straight," he said honestly._

"_You were thinking of Cho," she said knowingly._

_Hermione couldn't really try to explain the feeling in her stomach at that moment. She fancied Harry. She really did. But Harry had become quite complicated during the summer._

_One example was how easily he would flare up, and how easily he'd blast at her. It did give her a new perspective. Not that she could ever hate him, or grow tired of him because he was moody. She knew that it was just the time, and that it would pass eventually._

_It was that he could _flare up at her_._

_Not just groan in annoyance, or become irate._

_He'd bellowed his lungs out at her after the first time they'd been reunited for their fifth year. Bellowed at her and Ron, and she did the stupidest thing by almost crying. It had momentarily struck her that Harry had become too comfortable around her and Ron, and that they truly were his best friends._

_Some people would say that the best of friends could be determined if there is no conflict. She believed that the best of friends could be determined by the willingness of one person to start a conflict._

_Harry wouldn't have ever bellowed at Cho. _

_Harry would never be comfortable bellowing at someone he fancied, especially if they hadn't done anything substantially wrong towards him._

_It wasn't her fault; she was just following instructions._

_Always. Following. Instructions._

_Harry must have noticed the look on her face, because he smiled, and tapped her on the shoulder._

"_What're you thinking about?"_

_Hermione looked at him blankly, unable to even muster up an emotion. She must have looked clueless. She was bidding her time, trying to figure out an appropriate response._

_Her thoughts backtracked momentarily._

_Had she come to this now? That she had to pick her words around him, and not just say the first thing that came to mind? _

_Oh. Right. She _was_ hiding something, after all. _

"_Hermione, what's bothering you?" Harry asked tentatively._

_The bell rang then, and Hermione turned to him, smiling widely to enhance the act._

"_Time for class," she said softly. _

_Harry's eyes were focused on her for a long moment, as though he was studying her. But then he nodded, and they both stood, going their separate ways. _

* * *

Hermione looked down immediately as the elevator slid open and a familiar face jumped in, blocking her way and inevitably forcing her back inside. She tried to escape, but he just caught onto her arm, and gave her that pleading voice he knew always got to her.

"Please, Hermione. Can we just talk for a moment? Like civilized adults?"

She turned almost grudgingly towards Harry, and hung her head at him, leaning against the wall of the elevator. He punched a couple of buttons, and before she knew it the doors were sliding close.

"I have an appointment, you know," she told him quietly, keeping her tone even.

Her heart had still maintained it's warm, fluttering feeling all the way to St. Mungo's, but everything in her seemed to freeze when the doors slid open and she saw his eyes staring back at hers. She couldn't explain it. The flowers were from him. The flowers made her happy. The thought that Harry _**remembered**_ made her happy.

And yet it still hurt to look at him, it still hurt that she was back, and that four years worth of pain were suddenly clinging onto her like a second skin.

"Your appointment has been pushed back twenty minutes," he replied just as knowingly, and she gaped at him, dumbfounded.

"You pushed back my appointment?" Outrage. Curiousity. And curiousity was getting the better of her.

He fished in his pocket for a second, and held out a vial. It was filled about a quarter of the way with a clear liquid. She noticed that her hand was clenched tight, and he couldn't exactly give it to her. His eyes met hers briefly, before she looked back at his hand holding the vial, and hers which was clenched. And ever so gingerly, she opened her hand, and accepted the vial. She looked down at it, watching the slight amount of what she already knew was potion slosh from side to side as she tilted her hand.

"I think you know what that is," he said, almost smiling.

"Veritaserum," she said, not missing a beat, like she was a student again competing for grades and house points. She blushed furiously in embarrassment. Her body went rigid whereas he relaxed, exhaling in relief.

"'Brightest witch of her age'," he said in a commentary tone they'd both heard many times before.

"'The Boy-Who-Lived; the Chosen One'," she shot back quietly. He just smiled down at her, and she could almost feel the sides of her mouth complying. But not quite yet.

As the doors slid open, Harry held out his arms dramatically, egging her towards what lay ahead.

"What do you want, Harry?" she asked him tiredly.

He shook his head defiantly. "You've already given me what I want: Time to talk. I'm just suggesting we talk here, since it's the most deserted area in this entire building."

Hermione kept her eyes locked on him as she exited the elevator. They were in a ward she was not familiar with, and indeed there were no patients. Plenty of beds were cleared, and then it caught on to her.

"This is where they kept Mr. Weasley before."

"Yes, it is. Less dark magic running around nowadays," Harry said with a raised eyebrow. He began fishing in his pocket again, and pulled out a second vial, exactly the same as hers.

"What are you plan – Harry!" she cried as he drank the contents without another second's thought.

"Come on, join me."

"No. You've lost it!" she said, throwing her hands in the air for emphasis. But her right hand was still enclosed around the vial, and she turned back towards the door. Harry pulled out his wand in one fluid motion, and the doors to the elevator sealed themselves together, with a fiery X across it.

She turned back to him, exasperated, and he shrugged at her.

"'_For all I care, lock yourself in a room with her and find some way to tell her the truth'_," he quoted.

He really did _**remember**_. How could he still _**remember**_?

_Then again_, said a small voice at the back of her head, _how could he not?_

She felt a small smile creep up onto her lips as she fiddled with the bottle in her hands.

Hermione felt her curiosity resurfacing, and sighed. She fumbled with the vial for a good moment, before uncorking it and raising it to her lips.

Then she drained the bottle.

* * *

"_I heard a rumor that you spilled pumpkin juice on Hermione," Ron said as he sat down next to the two. They were huddled by the lake, legs stretched out and books and bags laid at the side. _

"_It was an accident," Harry replied._

_Ron shrugged. "I just wish I was there to see it – Ow!" he cried, laughing as Hermione whacked him across the arm. Harry laughed too, but shut up the minute Hermione laid her eyes on him._

_They heard giggling, and Harry caught sight of Cho again, accompanied by her friends. He smiled at the sight of her, watching her go by, her eyes momentarily spotting him. Then she blushed and turned away, and the giggling got louder. _

"_You should just pluck up the courage and tell her," Ron said thoughtfully, pulling Harry out of his trance. _

"_I'm just afraid she react like Fleur did," he said, eyebrow raised as Ron turned a deep shade of purple and it was Hermione's turn to laugh. Harry looked at her, smirking, as Ron sputtered an attempt at words. _

_Hermione caught him looking at her, and immediately stopped laughing, causing Harry to give her a questioning look that she just shook her head bashfully at, turning away. Harry decided to go for it, since Ron had pulled out his Transfiguration homework and was scribbling away determinedly, trying to avoid conversation._

_He leaned towards Hermione, almost bumping into her. _

"_What is it?" she asked him. _

"_I'm sorry about earlier," he mustered, unable to think of anything else to start the conversation with. _

_She waved her hand at him. "It's all right. You were distracted," she said, smiling knowingly again. Then she pursed her lips at him and shook her head, looking at the ground. "You should just tell her already."_

"_Yeah, mate, you should," Ron contributed._

"_Fleur!" both Harry and Hermione shot out, to which Ron began muttering incoherently, his attention once again fixed at his Transfiguration homework. Harry and Hermione shared a good laugh at the situation, before things grew less funny again._

"_It won't hurt to try," Hermione said softly, and Harry turned to her._

_He noticed how close he was to her, and that she looked as though he were already depriving her of oxygen supply by being so close. He scooted backwards, and Hermione looked down, avoiding his eyes. _

"_What – what's – Hermione!" he laughed. There was a warm feeling in his chest, and he knew what he had to do. This awkwardness was going to end now._

"_Harry!" she laughed aloud as he lunged onto her, bringing her down to the grass, her hair falling onto her face. _

* * *

"Ask me anything," he urged.

"What's your name?" she mumbled, all trains of thought having disappeared. Harry almost snorted.

"Something interesting. And it's Harry James Potter by the way."

Ah. There was the veritaserum kicking in. Harry noted how nervous he was actually feeling. His hand was clasped around the metal bar of the bed, while Hermione leaned against the wall. He was just bursting with all that he wanted to say to her. And if she didn't soon he'd –

"I've missed you." It came out before he could think any better of it. And he felt glad that it did. There was a burning at the back of his throat as he said it aloud.

Hermione looked up from the floor, and he could see that there was something genuine to the look she was giving him. Like…maybe…just maybe –

"Did you miss me?"

Hermione opened her mouth for a moment, and Harry waited, holding his breath.

"Yes," she said, in almost a whisper.

Harry let out a breath of relief once more, and managed to let go of the metal bar. This was going to work. This was going to work. He'd been up late into the night for the past five days planning for this to go well. He was usually on so much coffee his sentences rarely stretched beyond three words. They rarely did. See? _They rarely did_.

He just wanted her to forgive him. He just wanted to talk to her again. To be able to confide in her, and tell her his darkest secrets and most secret thoughts…and have her do the same with him.

"Why did you leave?" he asked.

"You told me to," Hermione said with a sad smile.

Harry frowned at that. "Yes, I know I did. But I've told you many things before, Hermione, and you've managed to ignore _them_."

Hermione was looking at her hands, and Harry was given a brief moment to admire the fact that she was in the same room as him. It was her. It really was. The same brown hair that was just as untamable as his own. The same deep brown eyes that seemed to go on forever that one would surely be lost if they looked into them. The same porcelain look – that she was so breakable. The same fire in her gaze when she looked up, her Gryffindor courage almost kicking in and her lion's heart beating.

"I just couldn't stay," she said softly, and it was the slight quiver in her voice that told him it was the truth.

Hermione stared at her hands, not wanting to go on. She guessed that it was the veritaserum that pushed her, giving her that feeling in her chest and urging her to just get everything out and start talking and never stop. It wasn't as though she hadn't fought this certain feeling before. But now, four years later, being in a room with Harry again...it was different. It just wouldn't go away. Not until he knew everything. And then maybe he'd look back and look at her and see that she was different from who he thought she was.

"Was it Ginny?" he began, before she cut him off.

"No. _No_!" she said, the second 'No' coming out stretched and exasperated. "It was you!" Hermione practically snarled at him, taking a rushed step forward, then taking an equally rushed step backward, her hands flying to her hair as she began fiddling with the strands. "You, Harry. It's always been you. I was just so confused…and I didn't know how else to be not. I have always wanted you to be happy –"

"I'm only happy if you're there, Hermione."

"– and yet I am always so sad. I mean. I just. It was a bad time for me…and I just couldn't take it anymore. So I ran."

"Did it make you happier?" he asked her carefully, his eyes steering her towards the answer. There was just something so beyond everything about his green eyes, and the way he was looking at her. Like she was Hermione Granger, his best friend, whom he wanted to laugh with and be with. Like she was still the same girl she'd been four years ago.

"I missed you," Hermione said with a sad smile. "But time heals all wounds," she began, and he stood up, the bed almost screeching backwards at his sudden force.

"Not mine," he bit off, taking her by surprise. "Not mine, Hermione. You took off like that and I wanted to follow you –"

"What rubbish –"

"Oh, really? You were selfish and stubborn! What was so bad for you that you had to run away? What couldn't we have fixed?"

"My parents!" she shrieked at him. She gazed around the ward warily, before turning back to him, her eyes almost glazed. "My parents. My life." She swung her hands around, trying to pull out good reasons from the air. "Everything!"

"We're all orphans here, Hermione," he told her, his voice almost breaking. "I lost my parents too. And I can tell you from experience that it's better to be with friends than on your own."

"They just meant – they just meant – you just don't know!"

"Ofcourse I don't," he muttered, scoffing.

"They used to talk about you as much as I did!" she shouted, tears springing to her eyes. "I used to mention you in almost all my letters! You were one of my first friends, Harry! FIRST! First after eleven years of lonely existence!"

"And you were one of mine!"

"That's the point!" she sniffed. "That's the point! You were the only sure thing after that! You changed everything! They were muggles – they couldn't fully grasp the wizarding world – they just – they could only go so far. It was like I lost my parents the day I accepted that letter. They could understand science and math – but potions and charms? No. No. No. No." She swung her purse at the bed next to her, and then sat down. "I could no longer talk to them about school."

And Harry recalled, once again, that fifth year prefect he'd known the summer at Grimmauld. That fifth year prefect who'd asked him quiet shyly if she could borrow Hedwig to owl her parents.

_Prefect was something they could understand._

"What else was there to talk about then? My day? Their day? The weather? I told them about you. I know. It sounds stupid. But it made them happy. I had a friend. They even though that…that…" Hermione swallowed. She took her good two breaths, and shook her head calmly. "It doesn't matter anymore. I just…I'm sorry I just left like that. It wasn't fair."

"Do you really believe that?" he asked her.

"What?"

"Do you really believe that it wasn't fair? That it wasn't some act to punish me?"

She looked at him with wide eyes and shook her head fervently. "I would never punish you, Harry."

"But it did," he said clearly. "It did, Hermione."

* * *

_Harry managed his way that he was next to her. He gave her a light push on the shoulders so that she wouldn't try to sit up. Once Hermione nodded, he lay himself next to her but in the opposite direction, so that his feet were pointing towards Ron and Hermione's were pointing towards the lake. He scooted even more so that their cheeks were almost brushing against each other. He could almost feel the burning of Hermione's cheeks as she flushed a deep crimson._

"_Oi, you two!" Ron called._

"_Fleur!" Harry called back out loudly._

"_Fleur!" Hermione added, just as loud. _

"_FLEUR!" Harry shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth._

"_Fleur!" Hermione shrieked inbetween a fit of giggles. _

"_I'm going to the common room then, if this is the company I have to put up with," Ron snapped at them, before grabbing his things and marching out._

"_Ron!" Harry called out without bothering to sit up. He could spot Ron walking towards the school, but felt no urgent need to follow him. It wasn't as though Ron were angry; he was just embarrassed._

"_Should we go after him?" Hermione asked, her laughs subsiding._

"_I dunno," Harry replied. "I'm too comfortable to run after Ron right now."_

_He placed his left arm behind his head as a pillow, and stared up at the clear blue sky. They spent a good few minutes like that, just staring up at the sky, and trying to relax. _

_Then she spoke again._

"_She won't turn you down," Hermione said in a whisper._

"_What –"_

"_She won't send you away," Hermione said, speaking louder._

_Harry thought quietly for a moment, letting the silence drift between them again. "How do you know?"_

"_I just do," Hermione said after a beat. "It's…it's a girl thing," she lied._

_It was not a girl thing. It was a Hermione-thing. It was a I-Know-She-Won't-Because-She-Isn't-Crazy-Enough-To-Turn-You-Down. It was also an observation, but she wasn't going to say that. _

"_And how do you suppose I tell her then?" Harry asked, though the edge in his tone told Hermione that he was just playing around with the conversation then. He wasn't taking her explanation seriously, and he definitely wasn't taking her word. _

_She supposed she would've normally felt hurt at that. But it wasn't as though she'd been completely honest with him either. _

"_I dunno," she said, shaking her head slightly. She took a deep breath, and began rattling off possible ways. "Take her out for coffee. Give her something of yours to remember you by." Harry gave an undeniable chuckle at her words, and she felt herself heat up slightly at that, but ignored the feeling. "Send her a thousand daffodils," she suggested._

_Then he laughed. He actually _laughed_, as though she'd said something deliberately funny. But she didn't, and it only made her head feel hotter. _

"_Oh for Merlin's sake, Harry –," she exclaimed at that point. "For all I care, lock yourself in a room with her and find some way to tell her the truth!"_

"_Hermione, wait, I don't understand," Harry huffed as he turned onto his stomach. Hermione was already wobbling to her feet, and heading toward her bag. "Hermione. I'm sorry I laughed. I just…I didn't think you were serious –" He got onto his knees, and stood. "Your suggestions just seemed so Muggle-like it seemed impossible that Cho would…go for them…" Harry trailed off lamely, giving Hermione a funny look. _

_She faltered under his stare, and shifted on the spot uncomfortably._

"_I just…Sorry. It was my mistake," he said suddenly, switching directions with the conversation. He walked forward to collect his own things, and handed Hermione her own things while he was at it. She reached out to take her bag from him, but he pulled it back last minute, smiling at her. "Is that what you'd want then? If you were Cho?"_

"_From…from you?" Hermione asked quietly, her cheeks threatening to go red in a flash._

_Harry gaped at her momentarily before catching himself. He almost snorted at her, but thought that it would have been too cruel. It wasn't her comment he'd be snorting at; but the look on her face. She looked dazed and lost, and it was a very funny look to see on Hermione Granger's face. But trust Hermione to maybe get things mixed up. _

"_No. I mean…from a bloke. Not from me."_

_Hermione scoffed. _

"_No," she said. It was the truth. Well, it was partially true. She shook her head at Harry, and made her way toward the school. Harry just watched her, smiling. _

_He knew she was lying. It was obvious._

_But Hermione knew she wasn't technically lying._

_She didn't want that from a boy. Not some 'boy', some hypothetical being. _

_She wanted it from Harry._

_It was always Harry._

* * *

"I'm telling I was wrong, Hermione. I'm apologizing. I just – wait. Please. I just – if it made you so miserable to send your parents away like that, to that extent, why then? Why do it?"

"I did it for you, Harry," she sighed, sitting on the bed across from him. He followed her motion and sat down as well. "I've done a lot of things for you. Six years at Hogwarts," she said, shaking her head. "One year out of it. And everything wasn't exactly going perfect for me. You know this, Harry. You know how difficult it can be to go from normal to…to not normal."

"To extraordinary," he corrected.

She shook her head again.

"I've never been extraordinary."

"You are to me," he told her frankly.

"Don't lie," she whispered.

"Veritaserum," they both said at the same time, Harry almost grinning and Hermione cringing. Hermione let out a long breath.

"What did your parents think of the infamous Harry Potter?" he asked her quietly.

Hermione gave him this blank look he'd remembered from sometime before. It was like she was a deer-in-headlights. Her lips were slightly parted, and her eyes were staring straight at him, looking so cornered and unaware.

"They always thought there was more to you than I let on," Hermione finally said after a moment. "Like I wasn't telling them about all of it."

"Was there?" he asked. "Was there a line between the Harry you told them about and the real me?"

Hermione fixed him with a sad stare, and sighed. "There are always lines, Harry. Children never tell their parents everything. My parents used to – used to ask a lot. They wanted to meet you. To take you out for dinner. For lunch. For something."

"I never met them," he told her, and she knew just as well as he did that he never really did.

"You were special, Harry. Eventually you became _so_ special that…that you became something else out of their reach," Hermione stated in a low-tone.

He frowned slightly at that. What did she mean? _'Special'_? _'So special'_?

"Hermione, I don't –"

She waved her hands down at him. "I'm sorry," she said suddenly, barely breathing the words out as she gave him one last look, then stood up. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Wait – Hermione," he said, turning and catching her by the hand. "You have to stop running!" he said desperately as she turned away. It wasn't as though she could really go any further unless she took the stairs. The door to the elevator was still sealed off. "You have to stop running, and just turn around and deal with all this."

"'Cause you're the expert, right?" she said, frustrated. "You've got all your problems solved. You're Harry, bleeding, Pot –"

"Ginny and I are unbonded!" he said, cutting across her.

Hermione froze, gaping again at him.

"Unbonded?" she deadpanned. "There are only two ways to become unbonded," she rattled off. "Death or…or…"

"It was the other thing," Harry supplied. "We just…you were right. It wasn't a good idea."

"I'm sorry," she found herself saying again. But this time she wasn't walking away. "It must have been terrible. You both didn't deserve that. I thought you were happy. I thought you were getting the life you should've had. You know: Family. Job. No dark wizards trying to do you in."

"So did I," he said, nodding. "But life never seems to work out the way we plan it. I wasn't the best husband. I wasn't the best person, really. Sometimes I'd…well. I'd lose it. Everything would be going well and then I'd lose it."

"Harry…"

"It was just…it was difficult. I couldn't let go, Hermione. I couldn't let life go on while I had forced my best friend away from me. Things weren't suppose to be like that. I was shocked, and then angry. And then just really, really empty." He paused. "Like something was missing. _Someone_ was missing."

"I've heard that the best of friendships can do that to you," she said quietly. "I guess I went by it differently. I kept pushing the thought of you and London away. Kept myself busy nonstop. But it was my fault. I shouldn't have let…things get to me. I kind of lost the logic there for a while," Hermione said, feeling the words just slip off her tongue. The veritaserum was making things easier for her. The load that usually lay above her head when she had to tell the truth was just gone. She could say anything now, and know that she had no possible way of regretting it. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"I just wish I could understand, Hermione. Because I don't. It's like you took off and everything I'd assumed, or collected about you over the years just disappeared. I didn't know you. I thought I had. When Ron left the tent and you stayed behind, I thought that –"

"Ron was different, Harry!" she blurted. "Ron isn't you."

"Who the heck am I then? Why is it that the only person that can make you leave me is ME?" he demanded.

"Because YOU were different! You just were. You were Harry, the one person who always cared. Who could deal with me and my incessant insanity. Who would stand up for his friends and fight for what was right! AND NO! That wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived. That was _just_ Harry." Hermione could feel her cheeks burning, almost feeling the pain as she let out all these words. Most of which she rarely ever thought to herself. And now she was telling him everything. "You were _just_ Harry. Just. And I thought I had this stupid insight and that you were different to me because I didn't grow up hearing your named revered." She took a deep breath. "Because when we met we were just Harry and Hermione. And when we became friends, we were just Harry and Hermione. You never became anything else to me."

He was stunned into his own silence. Her words hit him, giving him a new string of unrealized thoughts. He'd never been able to appreciate the difference his friendship with Hermione held against all the others. He'd never really pictured her as just a normal girl – _just_ Hermione. And he'd never really thought that someone he knew could just look at him as…as _just_ Harry. No titles, just round glasses and upsetting hair.

"And I don't know, okay?" she said to him, gripping tightly onto her purse, her knuckles white with pressure. "I let it get to me. And I thought for one silly moment –" her voice lowered "that maybe…_maybe_ you'd look at me one day and not just see me as just your best friend." She was speaking as quietly as possible, but with the emptiness of the room he still heard her voice as clear as day. "I thought that maybe, _just maybe_, you'd look at me one day and see me just as much more."

He could almost feel himself go numb at the words. _Just maybe._

_Special. So special. Just maybe. _

His own voice was creaking out before him. He knew it was true. He knew what he was about to say was true without her having to literally spell it out for him. And on veritaserum, what else could he do but speak the truth?

"You fancied me."

It came out as a whisper, and he knew he sounded stunned. He was disbelieving, almost to the point of bewilderment.

Hermione? Hermione who'd helped him throughout all his years? Who'd stuck by him throughout all his adversaries? The same best friend who'd helped him comprehend Cho? And Ginny? His mind just went blank.

Girls who fancied their guy friends wouldn't help their guy friends understand _other girls_, right? Particularly girls their guy friends fancied. Right?

A thousand thoughts and memories were rushing into his head. He felt like it was blood creeping in, making his head feel awfully light, and his body feel awfully heavy. It was a realization that almost shook him.

And he found himself looking at all their experiences together, and furthermore…all their moment. Theirs, and no one else's. All of it from a different perspective.

Hermione, who never gave up on him. Until the day she left. Hermione, who always stood by him. Until the day she left. Hermione, who could crush everything out of him with her loving hugs. Until she was gone, and couldn't hug him anymore. Hermione, who wanted to see him happy…even with someone else.

Hermione who – who…who had kissed him on the cheek at the end of their fourth year.

"The day you left…" he found himself murmuring.

She was slowly backing away towards the door, shaking her head.

"Don't leave yet!" Harry called, and Hermione felt a pang at her chest.

Don't leave yet. Don't leave yet.

Her chest was almost reaching that familiar place. Chest heaves up. Chest heaves down. She couldn't cry now. Not now. Please, just not now. He called her again, and she could almost feel the chills running down her spine.

"Hermione."

His voice was full of emotion. Pain. Fear. He just couldn't let her leave now. He couldn't have her suddenly leave again after all they'd said to each other. He couldn't just take five steps forward to walk a mile back.

"Hermione."

She turned around, and her pained eyes met his again.

There was something broken inbetween them.

And she could see it all in his eyes just as he could see it in hers.

He inhaled deeply as she stood there, feeling dumber by the moment for actually waiting. For not leaving. If she left, she could still close up this huge gap in her chest that was beginning to sting as it ripped itself open again. She'd stitched it up over four years, just to have it ripped open again.

Harry kept his gaze fixed on hers, not letting up for a second.

He didn't expect his plan to work this well. He had hoped, prayed, banked everything on the fact that Hermione would take the Veritaserum and not ask any questions about it. That had worked.

What he hadn't planned was what he'd say to her afterwards. What he'd say to her now.

_Potions, spells, they don't work on her. Luna's words. _

"Veritaserum doesn't work on you."

Hermione gaped at him, eyes already watering. He'd lied. He'd lied. LIED.

"I just - I needed to know the truth. I swear, I didn't know. I wish I had. Back then. I didn't know."

He'd lied. She'd told him everything on her own conscience. He'd lied.

She'd told him everything.

"It works on me though. I'm on Veritaserum. And I thought that if you believed you were under it, you'd be honest with me."

She'd told him _everything_. How could she _forget_? How could she trust him, and not recall? They didn't work on her. Nothing worked on her.

_Everything_. She'd told him _everything_.

"Please say something..."

She found her voice, blinking back tears.

"I didn't leave, Harry." Off his confused expression, she said, "You said earlier 'The day you left...' but I didn't leave." She pushed the door to the stairs open, and gave him one last look. "It wasn't the day I left."

She bit her bottom lip, which trembled as she fought to get the last bit out, Veritaserum or not.

"It was the day you lost me."

**A/N: AHHHHHH. Okay. I posted this since I started feeling guilty that I hadn't been updating. College life is keeping me busy, and I don't want to start writing while I'm feeling all apathic, since that'll just ruin everything for me and you guys. **

**And yes, Harry still has two more off the list to accomplish: **_Take her out for coffee. Give her something of yours to remember you by. _**Which he will, in the next chapter. I promise.**

**He's not going to let her just walk out of his life this time. **

**Also, have any of you guys watched **_Definitely, Maybe?_** Because I'm sort of reminded of that here. Or that reminds me of this. How Hermione is like April. The best friend who wanted to be the girl friend. The one the guy figures out he's in love with after all this time. **

**Just saying. **

**Anyway, you guys know this: Review? Favorite? Story Alert?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Posting out of guilt and love and mostly guilt so love me and not hate it?**

__The Day You Lost Me__

_CHAPTER 7_

_"I thought that maybe, just maybe, you'd look at me one day and see me as just as much more."_

Hermione.

How's your summer so far?

I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. Hasn't it always been that way, anyhow? The only time I used to write you was during the summer or winter, when we were far apart.

Though now that I think about it, we never really were that far from each other. I suppose I could have even taken the bus or the train and been at your house in less than an hour. And now I can be there in a second. I can be there and stand outside that door, and see just how big that house is...and then I remember that somewhere inside that big house is my best friend, who I have been waiting for for the past four years.

And this is the same exact thought that has been running through my mind the past week. That in one second I could be on that porch and ringing that bell, and then I'd see you and you'd see me, and then we'd have another row and I'd say something and you'd say something and one of us would have to walk away. Though since it is your house, I guess I'd be doing the walking.

This has a point, I promise.

The point is that I should never have waited. I should never have sat there waiting and hoping that you'd return.

I should have followed you and stopped you. I should have followed you and brought you back home.

But I didn't, and the more I think about it, the more I ask myself: Why?

Why didn't I follow you? Why didn't I drop everything in my life to follow you? I'd done it before. I'd dropped out of school to save a world, and yet I couldn't drop anything to save our friendship. And the funny thing is that the more I compare the two – the world and our friendship...I should have saved our friendship.

Instead, I stayed. I couldn't bring myself to follow you and I didn't know why. All I could do was imagine that one day I'd see you again. All I could do was try to always remember you.

And it worked for a while. I could still easily remember your smile, and the way it could always make me sure that whatever I was doing was right. I remembered that seeing you smile always somehow slowed down time for me, because then I could just let go of whatever problems I had because Hermione Granger was smiling...and the world would always stop for your smile.

I remembered you laugh – and I cannot put into words how much I miss hearing it. Sometimes I feel like I do, like it's there echoing in the back of my head, except that through the years that echoing got lost along the way, and I couldn't help it because I'd forgotten how you'd used to laugh. All I could remember was how lively you'd be, and how bright your eyes were, and natural your laugh was...but I couldn't remember _your_ laugh. I couldn't picture it, I couldn't hear it. And for a while I thought I'd never hear it again.

And your eyes. I don't know what it was, but I used to be able to look into your eyes and just see everything. I don't even know what "everything" is, but it was just that grand - it was everything to me. Everything good and everything possible and...I could look into those eyes and feel so sure about whatever I wanted, because that was just it.

You were so brave and amazing and beyond everything else in the world that ever stood a chance to astound me.

So I'd built this image in my head all this time about how brilliant you are, because you know it too, Hermione - you're just brilliant in all ways. And that brilliance and brightness to you...it feels like something I just imagined.

And I don't want it to be just something I imagined, Hermione. I don't want to just wake up one day and wonder who you were. I don't want to be the reason that you're broken, because I know that you are and I know that I am too.

I saw you that day at St. Mungo's and I couldn't believe it because you are not the same Hermione Granger I grew up with; the same Hermione Granger who stuck with me until the end. I couldn't believe it because that was never suppose to happen to you. You were never supposed to ever be this sad and this lost.

And that's when I realized that I really had just been building up this picture-perfect image in my head about how everything would just be magically all right the moment we met again, and I realize now that it was stupid of me to do so.

Nothing is the same anymore. Not even you and me.

And I can see that there is clearly something between us that is off now. I can see that something is missing, and that just kills me inside. To know that I could have all I've been wishing for for the past four years – which is you to be back – and yet it still feels like my heart is caving in.

It's just that I used to be able to see you, Hermione – and my heart would just start beating. Not that it ever really stopped, thank Merlin, but when I saw you the beating would become so literal and powerful that it reminded me that I was still alive. You have no idea how much that helped me through the years, and through the war.

But the day you left, it all stopped. The beating, the sureness, the happiness. It all stopped. And all I wanted was to see you, and see you smile, and hear you laugh and just look at you and feel that sure again. I just thought that if I saw you again all of it would return, but the truth is that none of it has.

I'm broken inside, and I'll be the first to admit it. The day you left some part of me just shut off, and things became ugly. I became ugly. I'm already broken, and that is because of me and my mistakes; and I don't want to see you broken as well.

The world can't handle the both of us broken at the same time, Hermione.

I can't handle the both of us broken at the same time.

I never thought that I lost you. I never even came to the point of thinking that you were truly gone. Something out of reach. I just used to think to myself, over and over again: I'll get her back. She'll come back. I'll see her again.

And now I'm so afraid that I've truly lost you, and I just want to figure things out. I just want to figure out this whole brokenness thing...and I don't want to do it alone.

So when you told me all those things last week, it felt as though someone had maimed me in the head with a bludger. I guess I shouldn't have filled the bottom floor of your house with a thousand daffodils, and I shouldn't have begun this perilous journey down that list of yours. But I did, because I wanted - at that time - to show you that I was a person that cared. That I was a bloke that loved you, even if it wasn't in the way we had discussed all those years ago. And I plan on continuing this list, because I owe it to you Hermione. I owe it to you to finish what I started and I owe it to you because you deserve it. You really do, and someone should have done all of this for you.

You said that I was the only sure thing after you got that letter to Hogwarts, and I've come to think that you were the only sure thing after that letter too. You were the one person who would never leave me unless I wanted you to. I realized that I've proved this twice now. Once in our third year, and then this.

You said that I was the only person who could make you leave, and now I want to be the person that makes you want to stay.

You said that when we met we were 'just' Harry and 'just' Hermione, and even so after we became friends. And right now that's what I want us to be - 'just' Harry and 'just' Hermione.

But then you told me that you fancied me...and I guess the only thing I'm trying to say right now is that...

Well.

What if I don't fancy you, Hermione?

What if all these years of waiting and longing and agonizing every day over my faults...what if it just means that I love you?

What if I love you, Hermione Granger?

* * *

Harry stared at the letter he'd spent an hour writing.

_What if I love you, Hermione Granger?_

His hand dropped unceremoniously on the parchment, and it would take only the slightest movement of his fingers to scrunch the letter up into nothing. All he had to do was move his fingers.

He waited for it to happen. He waited to feel the crunching of the parchment. He could just throw it into the fireplace, and no one would be the wiser. No one would know.

No.

He would know.

And now he would always know.

**A/N: Short and sweet guys. I have work to do :( **  
**And unfortunately this work takes up my time. And thusforth I am at a disadvantage. Plus the laptop I use to type out those longer chapters is at home, and I am stuck with this runt of a creature that is called a Netbook, or a Notebook, or for all I care it's called a brochure, because that surely is how small it is! (Rant on tiny laptop ends here.)**

**Pau-0803: Yes, I know. (Smile). I love Gilmore Girls, and that was indeed my inspiration for that thing. I keep re-watching the first season. **

**And thanks guys for the positive reviews about the whole Marriage Bond thing. Love ya! **

**Read. Review. Favorite. Alert. **

**P.S. just sharing with you guys, when I write these chaps I usually have a song playing.  
Either: What Sarah Said - Death Cab for Cutie ; House of Hallways - Go Radio ; Kings and Queens - 30 Seconds to Mars ; Body Parts - Plain White T's and a bunch of others I have yet to re-look up. For this chap it was House of Hallways. **


	8. Chapter 8

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Long time since I updated, I know. But I'm back now, ish. Have fun! It's short. **

_The Day You Lost Me_

_CHAPTER 7_

_This is will all be new. All of it._

Hermione found her way into Flourish and Blott's. Her fingers traced over the hardbound titles, looking through the selection of latest reads. She eventually came across a more recent version of _Hogwarts: A History_, and she smiled faintly. By now their adventure and the defeat of Voldemort would have been written in, so it made sense.

It was already nine in the evening and the store was relatively empty aside from one couple, the store clerk and a middle aged woman. Hermione found her peace in the quiet and the books, tugging one after the other out and scanning quickly through the pages for something interesting. She finalized her shopping list with the updated version of _Hogwarts: A History_, a book of runes called _Tales of Tablets_, and a book on magical creatures called _Young and Wild_. She would keep _Hogwarts: A History_ for herself, study through _Tales of Tablets_, and send _Young and Wild_ to Hagrid.

He still sent her his treacle fudge during the holidays, and sent her hard and sweet cakes during important dates like her birthday. She hadn't talked to him in a year, and it refreshed her guilt.

That was the problem with running away, she decided, that the past really does have a way of dragging you back home eventually.

She turned the books in and paid. The clerk, looking bored, searched behind her desk for a moment, before saying, tiredly, "I'm sorry, Miss, but we seem to have run out of bags – oh my Merlin, you're Hermione Granger!"

Hermione's eyes widened in shock at the recognition. Back in America, people knew her story, but she was usually just regarded with respect and the occasional awe. The clerk, on the other hand, looked like a fan. She began mumbling words which sounded like "amazing", "brave", "sad" and "Harry Potter" while searching in vain for the last of the paper bags.

"Oh no. Oh dear. I've really run out of bag. Oh my –"

"It's all right," Hermione said immediately, hoping to get her to stop fumbling around. She was already pulling various materials out and onto the floor in an avid search for a paper bag. The mess was starting to accumulate, and the other three customers were beginning to stare, both curious and reproachful. Other than that, she had a small migraine that was slowly growing into a big headache.

The clerk looked at Hermione with embarrassed eyes. "I'm truly sorry, Miss Granger –"

"No. No need to be sorry. I really don't mind," Hermione insisted, taking the books in her arms. She felt a little lightheaded by then. "Thank you."

She turned around and left as quick as she could before the clerk could break into tears or endure a panic attack.

By the time she was outside, she took a deep breath, and began a slow walk past all the shops in Diagon Alley. The brightest shop was obviously Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, which she eagerly wanted to enter. She was already thinking up a way to avoid entering the blasted shop when George Weasley poked his head out.

"Hermione?" he gasped.

Hermione was about to respond when a crack of thunder echoed. She stared at George, before more voices from inside the shop came calling out.

"Who is it, George?"

Ginny.

"Oy, stop letting the cold in!"

Ron.

"Ron, don't be rude now."

Luna.

Hermione felt as though her head was beginning to spin. She wanted to assume that it was the same feeling she had gotten when she first saw Luna, Ron and Harry, but this time it felt different. This time her ears were ringing, her head was buzzing, and her chest was thumping. She could feel all three interactions at once, her body suddenly overcome with a warm feeling.

"George?"

Harry.

Hermione smiled weakly at George Weasley, who only grinned and called out those inside, "It's Hermione!"

Bodies piled at the entrance of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. First was Ron, who slammed into George, the two of them knocked into the street. Then Ginny and Luna. Then Harry. He stepped around George and Ron so he was at front.

Any other time, Hermione would have run by now. But she was done running. In addition to this, she wasn't sure her legs could take it. She stared at the group before her and they stared at her, happy and unsure, just as she was.

Her eyes found Harry's, and he looked at her with a level of emotion unlike any other. He looked scared, almost terrified. He looked sad.

"Hi," Hermione managed.

Harry turned around to face Ron and said something Hermione couldn't quite catch. But Ron only nodded, and the Weasleys and Luna went back into the shop. Hermione caught Ginny's eyes at this, and could see that tears were beginning to spring into her bright eyes. Hermione almost choked back her own emotional sob. She was so happy to see Ginny, and yet so pained.

Once they were gone, Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked towards her determinedly.

They were standing in front of each other then, not close enough but not far either. He looked at her and smiled slightly. Hermione thought he looked like he was in pain.

Her ears were ringing so loud she could barely hear what he had to say. Her head had gone from buzzing to throbbing, and she had to keep her feet tightly planted on the ground to avoid falling. Her whole body almost shook with each thump of her heart.

A flash of lightning followed by another crack of thunder broke the awkward silence. Harry finally met her eyes, and then it all just came out.

"Y-you chose the wrong girl," she finally stammered out.

Harry's sad look turned into one of surprise.

"You chose the wrong girl," Hermione repeated once more. Drizzle began hitting the two of them then, but Harry only continued to look at her quietly.

She stood there, feeling increasingly stupid by the minute as he looked at her blankly.

"Say something," she finally said as the drizzle soon turned to rain.

Her books were about to be soaked. She wiped at the rain that hit Hogwarts A History until Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket, gave a tap and summoned an umbrella out of thin air. He held it above the two of them, inching closer to stay dry.

"I have loved you more than I have loved anyone else…ever," he finally said.

"I know, Harry. I love you too. I've even _loved_ you, you know," she said, shrugging her shoulders to emphasize her point.

Her head was really starting to hurt her. She avoided cringing as much as possible, and hoped that any look of pain could be connected to the words she was saying instead of the ache she was feeling.

She caught a look at his expression. He looked concerned.

"What?" she snapped. "What?"

Harry reached out, his hands touching her arm just as her legs began trembling.

"You're bleeding."

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Leave me a review. I will try to revive this story to the best it can be. **


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